


Love In Its Disrepute

by apocalypticTaco



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Filipino Karkat Vantas, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Pining, Roommates, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Trans Kanaya Maryam, Trans Karkat Vantas, Trans Rose Lalonde, dirk and roxy are dave and roses little siblings, eventually!! patience comes in time, yes this tag doesnt exist but ill MAKE it a thing. soon enough just you wait, you see these tags? were in for the LONG HAUL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypticTaco/pseuds/apocalypticTaco
Summary: Your name is Karkat Vantas. You’ve dreamt of love your entire life, and the second it happens to everybody else is the second you realize that you are cursed to be alone.Your name is Kanaya Maryam. Your permanent residence is within the lonely hearts club.Your name is Dave Strider. You arewaytoo fucking busy taking care of your two little siblings and working your ass off to evenconsiderthe prospect of love, much lesssoulmates.Your name is Rose Lalonde. You aren’t going to let fate dictateshit.-The second a person turns 18, they get the words of their soulmate’s love confession etched into a part of their body.But what if soulmates didn’t always exist?
Relationships: Aradia Megido & Dave Strider, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam & Dave Strider, Kanaya Maryam & Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde & Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 342
Kudos: 429





	1. DAVE: live your perfect movie life

Oh _fuck off,_ what is that _noise?_

It’s downright fucking nasty, piercing through the soft blanket that you pulled over your head in an attempt to calm your alarm’s tits and get a few more minutes of sleep. You shove an arm out of your cushioned abode, slapping around on your side table until you feel something vaguely phone-shaped and grab it, taking it back into the covers with the rest of your body. Maybe today it’ll finally seal around your body and leave you embalmed for future archaeologists to dig up and view. 

If only blankets and beds only worked that way. 

It’s more likely that you’d just assume the fetal position until it gets too hot and you’re forced to shuffle your way out of bed to face the day like a responsible adult. Shame. 

  


Anyway.

You unlock your phone screen, squinting at the clock. 6:2...7? It isn’t supposed to ring yet for at _least_ three minutes. 

  


You wince. That screeching noise is still happening. 

Wait. Oh.

Oh, _shit._

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck that’s Roxy’s scream._

In an acrobatic move that would make hot movie men running from an impending gunfight gape in jealousy, you _launch_ yourself off the metaphorical handle and out the literal bedroom to sock-slide your way into the kitchen where impending catastrophe is being sown like a bunch of seeds after a farmer’s been paid one hell of a hefty subsidy. Like little bean buds being scattered about from flower girls going haywire at a wedding recital, or some other shit that you might actually have knowledge on that didn’t come from late night browses on Wikipedia with Rose.

  


And like late night browses on Wikipedia with Rose, you rub your eyes and wonder if you have enough energy for the day to believe this, much less live your life knowing that lobsters technically can’t die. Or that your little brother is ten seconds into microwaving a full bowl of cereal with a spoon in it. At least the screaming died down, though. 

  


You bend down to scoop up Dirk with one arm and turn off the microwave before things start getting a little bit too lightning-inducing for your tastes. You feel Roxy tug at your pajama leg.

“Morning Dave-Davey,” she hoarsely wheezes, completely out of breath. You take Emergency Midnight Plastic Cup of Water #1 off the table and hand it to her, sitting down on the floor to wait until she’s done.

  


“Morning Davey,” she repeats, handing the cup back to you with enthusiasm. “Dirk put a spoon in the oven even when I told him not to because it’ll melt. So I screamed.”

“Yeah, I heard you loud and clear, sweetie,” you sigh. “Thanks for waking me up so we don’t have to spend this month’s fast food money on another tech replacement. I appreciate it.” Roxy beams, hugging you around the neck. 

  


You turn to Dirk, who’s still chilling in your arm, albeit looking away. Maybe thinking about making some controlled lightning when you’re not looking later.

  


“Dirk,” you begin, giving his cheek a gentle prod, “my best bro, my main man and second in command, I appreciate you trying to get ready for school all by yourself but you totally _should not_ -” you raise an eyebrow for emphasis “-should, not could, okay- put a spoon or fork or any other metal utensil used for cooking or mouth contact into the microwave, okay? That shit’s gonna explode in the bad way that ends up with a lot of bad smells and boring tech shopping. Hate to say it, but I already told you before that you’re not allowed to use the fun heating box until you’re old enough to read and understand the entire manual that comes with it. That okay with you?” 

  


Dirk looks between you, the microwave and Roxy, considering your offer. You hold up a fist primed for bumping.

“I’ll let you press the buttons whenever you want to help heat something up. Don’t leave me hanging.” 

And to that he nods, sealing the kiddy contract with the most businesslike of deals one could ever fathom when you’re six years old and coincidentally wearing tuxedo-print pajamas. Fuck yeah.

  


The now distant ringing of what’s _actually_ your phone alarm reminds you that it’s Friday. And productive shit should probably be transpiring right about now. You stand up, set your kids down and quickly get into routine mode.

  


You open the cupboards, set down three more bowls, a carton of cold milk and three glasses. You microwave Dirk’s cereal with his help as per your newfound deal, fill up said three glasses, get hydrated, take out your last decent attempt at homemade pizza from the fridge to pack for lunch, and _finally_ give Roxy her good morning hug before double checking that chaos won’t break out again as you leave.

  


That was a fucking lot. You proceed to sock shuffle your way to Rose’s door, giving it a good drum beat before banging on it twice with finality. An aggravated groan resounds through the wood, followed by the familiar sound of Rose falling onto the floor. 

“Fuck _YOU._ I’m not g’nna get _up_ , ‘m thirty for _fuck’s_ shake-”

“First of all,” you sigh, “you’re not thirty, you’re twenty six. Also, you have to go to school.”

“ _I’m fucking twenty six.”_

“You’re the damn _teacher_ , Rose.”

“ _Fuck you.”_

You groan. “I gotta be honest, there’s probably no way to sugarcoat this in a way that sounds appealing. You’re twenty-six and going back to school. My mandible is made of calcium and not sucrose. Speaking of mandible, I’m not gonna call in to flap my jaw about how you’re sick with what’s definitely an actual cold and not the fatal illness called life fucking sucks syndrome. Which I guess is just called life?” You pause, hearing her sigh through the door.

“Also, Roxy and Dirk are going to school healthy as newborn fucking foals and it’s only a matter of time before they find out about how there’s no way they’re happy little babies while you’re supposedly bedridden Victorian-style. It’s also not just because of the fact that the dirt they ate amped up their immune system by like a million units.” You place your forehead to the door.

  


No reply.

  


Even after all these years, it still isn't easy for Rose. She toiled over a desk for years, taking a double major in psychology and literature, only to end up with a job that’s nowhere near what you were ever thinking of. At least you get to talk about bones; Rose ended back up in the very education system she worked so hard to get over with. 

  


She’s a good teacher and sister though; you both know that. High school is just one extra special circle of hell.

“Look,” you amend, “it’s Friday. Just eight or so more hours and then we can all relax on the couch and chill if you want, okay? It’s gonna be like every other fuck-normal day.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

The door finally opens, and you greet your second favorite sister and sole confidant good morning with a fist bump. She hits it dead on, yawning before motioning for you to dip your head down low. 

“Your roots are growing back in, just infinitesimally too much. As is your fade.” 

“Well, your professional gray isn’t looking as pristine as it was before either, asshole. Better bleach them soon before people discover all your shit’s just a cover up for your actual gray hairs.”

You both hold your long-practiced deadpan stares, refusing to be the first one to break.

Rose raises an eyebrow. “Fucker.”

“Poopyhead.”

“Oh, are we resorting back to kindergarten insults now?”

“We all know you have to fight fire with fire.” That was a good comeback. Good one, Dave.

Rose breaks into a snort before shoving you aside to head straight for the bathroom. Well, not straight. She faceplants the wall along the way.

  


While Rose attends to her porcelain-adjacent duties, you go back to check up on Dirk and Roxy, making sure their backpacks have everything they need: lunch, pencil cases, whatever constitutes as homework for first graders- like seriously, what do they even fucking do? Color in the alphabet? It doesn’t matter- that one horse lego for Dirk, glitter pens and a daily sticky note from Rose for Roxy, water bottles and helping them get ready (Roxy puts her socks on backwards and Dirk brushes his teeth for too long). You finish off by cleaning up any stray crumbs on the table until Rose gets out fully dressed, tapping you out of Responsible Adult Duty and into grabbing your own set of clothes before heading into the bathroom yourself.

  


There _is_ a uniform for tour guides at the museum, but Aradia lets you spice up your look with a suit occasionally. It’s not that cold today, though. Maybe you’ll forgo the jacket and just wear the long sleeve.

You wink at yourself. You clean up well.

  


Fuck. You forgot to wash your face.

Admittedly, you probably spend a lot more time in the bathroom than you need to. You stare at yourself in the mirror, slowly wiping your face clean of any stray droplets. Look at that.

Dave Strider, responsible adult.

You’re not so detached from your childhood yet that the concept itself still sounds laughable. Like you’re two steps away from the circus spotlight, tomatoes and clown horns at the ready. And yet, here you are. With three jobs and taking commissions on the side, waking up every day to accompany your siblings to school and work. Every night, you go to sleep with a mental list of unfinished tasks that you’ll never complete, because that’s just the way shit is on this bitch of an earth. Resignation is your motivation.

You even pay _taxes_ , now. That’s fucked up. 

Okay, Rose pays the taxes. You’re still not completely sure how to do them. 

The point still stands.

  


You stare down into the towel. You’re so tired. 

You’re the eldest (barely, but whatever) in a family of four, spreading yourself thin with responsibilities that hammer at you as heavily as the day your parents died, no matter how familiar you are with the routine. The days have begun to blend together into a haze, your only anchor to time being the constant surprises Roxy and Dirk spring at you everyday as they grow.

  


Yeah, those two. And Rose, of course. 

  


The memory of bright smiles and quiet nods are all you need to remind yourself of what you’re still here for.

  


Dirk’s small hands gripping your own with determination, pointing to various pieces of furniture around the house and not letting up until you got the hint and wrote each word down on a piece of masking tape, effectively labeling everything he wanted to learn to read.

  


Rose and Roxy painting your nails, your left hand with blue and right with red. Watching Sharkboy and Lavagirl while discussing cartoon physics as you wait for the paint to dry. Roxy pointing out that your toes are still as nude as the day you were born, and bearing the scent of acetone as you try to wipe off the excess polish that got on your feet afterwards.

  


You’re doing it for them. Trying to make the world a little less shitty for the people that mean everything to you. Even _if_ everything is turning out to be the complete opposite of what you expected adulthood to be like from coming of age movies and simple childlike idealization, you have Rose and Roxy and Dirk. 

Maybe that’s enough for you.

  


A sharp series of steps rouses you out of the towel (when did that get in your face?) before a kick to the door has you rapidly tucking it back onto the rack, double checking yourself in the mirror one more time. Fuck, your hair _is_ growing out too much. You probably need to do something about that soon.

  


“Dave!” Rose’s yell pierces clear through the wood. “It’s been twenty minutes! Don’t tell me you’re somehow too infantile to know how to get dressed unassisted. Although I wouldn’t put that past you.” 

“Damn it, Rose,” you open the door, grabbing the car keys before ushering everyone out the apartment and down the stairs, “don’t you know the first rule of bathroom etiquette is not to disrupt pensive spirals? I could’ve-”

“-frightened yourself at the sound of my voice mid-shit, effectively alerting yourself to the fact that your legs were rendered numb in the process of your porcelain philosophy, inducing a toilet-related bone breakage?” She looks back, flashing a cheeky smile. “I’m certain you’ll live. After all, I do believe you’re already quite familiar with the experience.” 

  


“That happened only _twice_! Two fucking times _,_ and you never let me live it down,” you call out. Woefully, your retort is already diffused into the air, left behind by the time you all buckle in your seatbelts and drive off to school.

  


In her own apt manner, Rose asks you for a time check just as you pull into the front of the school. 

“7:45,” you state. “Kick them kids’ asses, incorporate them into the assembly line mentality as all teachers evilly conspire to do in a totally not evil manner-”

  


“I’ll have you know that I personally detest the current education system, a belief that I am thankfully not alone with in this desolate landscape of pedagogic indoctrination.” Rose gets out the door and opens the side to help Roxy out, leaning over to continue. “He’s quite charming actually, when not ear-gratingly exhausting. You’d like him.”

  


“That so?” You reply. Throughout the entirety of her current career, Rose solely talks about one guy as if he’s the only other coworker she actively likes (if not tolerates) in the school. You don’t know what the fuck he did to gain her respect, but if Rose likes him, he’s bound to be a pretty okay guy. 

That, or she’s been secretly making fun of him and you’ve been misinterpreting shit as always.

It’s about time you meet someone new, anyway. Maybe you could be friends.

Maybe he’s also cute. You don’t fucking know.

  


Rose nods in confirmation. “Indeed. We really must organize a lunch together, you know. For adults, we’re surprisingly incompetent in our responsibilities.” 

“I beg to differ-"

"Then beg-"

"Real mature of you right then. I mean, we have two toddlers to manhandle while running on a maximum of 7 hours of sleep on a good night. Considering the ass-over-head rating on circumstances, I think we're doing pretty good."

Rose purses her lips. Ooh, and an eyebrow raise. She’s definitely admitting you’re right. "I suppose you're not wrong."

"And we’ve only committed tax evasion, like, once.”

“We don’t talk about that. We’re lovable law abiding citizens.”

“I’m kidding.”

“I know you know you’re kidding.”

  


“3:30?” Dirk’s voice speaks up against your rapport. It isn’t often that he talks- he usually resorts to simple gestures and ASL, although you and Rose are still trying to remember all the letters. When he does, though, it’s punctual and short. Ironically, you have a feeling he’s going to be a lot more roundabout and obtuse when he grows up.

  


“Yes Dirk, Dave will pick us up at 3:30. He will have to return to work shortly afterward, though. He’ll join us later when his last shift is over, if I’m correct.” Rose finally takes his hand, helping him out of the car. 

  


“Would you two like to bade Dave farewell?”

“Seeya Davey!! Have a good day at work. I love you.”

“Bye.”

  


“Thanks for making it sound like I’ve aged twenty years, Rose.”

“You look it.”

  


You almost flip her off before you remember you’re supposed to be driving and you’re also in front of a bunch of very impressionable kids. You get on your way with a wave. And a glimpse of a middle finger.

  


At around 8:20, you pull into the parking lot of the Clockwork Museum. Which, ironically enough, is not about clocks. It does involve time though, so you guess it does make sense from a certain perspective. If that certain perspective involves a good-natured sense of humor towards the fact that we’ll all be sets of bones in due time.

  


Aradia’s waiting for you when you enter the doors, wiping off the countertops with a final flourish. Her smile is infectious.

  


“Hello Dave! You’re earlier than usual today.”

You put on your nametag, taking the rag from her and setting it back down onto an inconspicuous corner of the table. “Yeah, I got an earlier wakeup courtesy of toddler shenanigans. Dirk tried to microwave a spoon.”

  


“That’s a riveting way to start your day. Also, they’re not toddlers anymore.”

You groan. “Don’t remind me of the passage of time.”

“It exists!”

“It’s existing too fast.”

“Not exactly. Your days are simply blending together into one continuous block of tedium.” She reaches over to straighten your collar, turning to walk to the front doors while you quickly fall in step next to her. “What makes time more distinctive is the moments that we spend doing things outside of the usual. In reality, there’s plenty of time to satisfy various curiosities you might have about life and vigor and whatnot.”

“Tell that to my calendar.”

“It’s quite possible that I will! When we finally hang outside of work.”

You sigh, setting a directory sign outside of the door. “Soon.”

“And how many soons more?”

“When I stop getting my ass handed to me by the very fingers of the clock itself. And considering I’m so far back in on sleep debt I might as well get put into a coma to get it all back I’ll probably have to postpone it a few soons more to _actually_ get back to you with non-caffeinated blood running through my veins. Now go ahead and tell me if I’m lying. I’m a big and honest boy.”

“You are! You drink what constitutes as coffee-flavored milk. There is not a single ounce of caffeinated blood in your veins that could add up to a single bean.”

  


Ooh. That hurt. 

  


“Anyway!” She continues, completely ignoring the minor breakdown you’re having about how your preferable coffee flavor is that of a milk truck driving through a single plant for its subtle hint of energy. 

“I’m reminding you that there will be a group of students on a school field trip today. They should be arriving here soon.”

Right. You’re working. As you do. Right right right right right-

Aradia places her hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “Dave, you’re great with children. And you will do fine. You know that just as well as I do.” 

  


You take a deep breath. Yeah. “Yeah. Thanks, Ara.”

“It’s no problem. Our coworkers will be arriving soon. Go get a drink of water before you start.”

  


One cup of water later, you’re standing near the front desk, waiting for the plethora of middle schoolers heading right your way. You shake your hands. At least these are little kids; Just remember to speak a bit slower and you’ll be fine. 

  


Finally, the kids are all gathered and mostly silent in front of you, stationed by two teachers at each side. 

“Alright! Good morning, sup, hope you’ve had a good start to everything so far, my name’s Dave and I’ll be your tour guide for today,” you greet. The routine starts coming back to you, flowing into your veins and steadying you for a long day destined for talking about one of the things you love most. You start leading them down the hallway, with a skip in your step that reminds you with a familiar nudge that everything’s okay. 

“To start off, what do you know about evolution?”

A kid in the front frantically waves her hand. 

“It is-It’s when a Pokemon changes into another type of Pokemon!” 

The group bursts into laughter and high fives, and you smile and wave the two teachers away from reprimanding them. 

You love your job.

  


-

  


Multiple successful (albeit draining) tours and a family drop-off later, you’re back in your car, driving to your third job.

  


Honestly, you don’t even know why you work at this cafe other than the extra bucks it gives you for the occasional self-care splurging. Olive Garden makes sense: You started visiting it in middle school as an endeavor for free breadsticks, which evolved into a high school job for the extra money, which evolved into an extra Adult Job to keep up the extra money just in case you and Rose’s inheritance ran out after your parents died. 

Which it mostly did, because -surprise surprise- providing for two little kids with enough healthy food to make sure you don’t get scurvy as well as a fuckton of other stressing factors that you don’t really want to think about takes a devastating bite out of your bank account. You’re scared to think about what would’ve happened if you _didn’t_ get the money.

  


Probably a lot more work and a lot less sleep.

  


You reach the cafe aaand it’s not your _fucking shift today._

Great. Great. You’re fucking fantastic. Just a top notch dude on top of his schedule like Atlas taking a piggyback on the Earth. 

Look, you already drove over here. Might as well use the employee’s discount to get a hot chocolate and work on your commissions. 

  


At least the ambiance in here isn’t that bad. The whole cafe is pretty cozy with seat cushions and dim lighting, and the hot chocolate makes your tastebuds sing.

The coffee fucking sucks, though. It’s always too bitter.

And your coworkers are never really up to talking with you, which sucks a lot of the fun out of it all. Most days you find yourself standing idly, people watching until you get your next order. It’s pretty shitty, but the extra money helps.

Anyway. 

You put your headphones on, pressing play on a playlist, and take out your drawing tablet. Time to work.

  


-

  


You’ve got an extra sixty dollars in the bag and a cramped wrist when you arrive back home, tuckered out and ready to avoid interacting with the outside world for 48 hours. 

  


The door opens. Like a ball hitting you square in the gut, Roxy tackles you with a squeal and a (surprisingly) strong grip. Behind her, Dirk’s expectantly holding up some blank paper and a pencil. 

You hold them tight, reminding yourself what you’re here for. 

  


You’re still thinking about it on your bed as Dirk does addition worksheets, smiling while Roxy colors next to you. Rose is in the living room, probably sitting on the couch with a book forgotten on her lap while she watches the news to keep up with the times like a responsible adult. Like you probably should be doing too. 

The steady mumble of the distant reporter rumbles in the back of your head, with the last few rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You need to turn the lights on soon- can’t have the kids strain their eyes in the dark.

  


It’s for the little moments. Spending what time you have doing things outside of the usual, satisfying the curiosities you have about growing up and simple addition.

  


You owe Aradia some time one day.

  


“Dave?” Roxy tugs at your sleeve. “Can you help me draw the grass?”

You take the colored pencil with the esteem of a newly knighted chevalier. “It’d be my deepest honor, Rox, holy shit. Shit. Ignore that.” She and Dirk giggle. 

  


Yeah, you gotta stop swearing around these kids. 

  


There’s something oddly calming about drawing grass. They’re simple enough that they can be easily illustrated with just a couple green lines and minimal effort. Zigzags, maybe, if you’re getting overly pretentious and fancy. Huh. You could do a comic about that. Maybe something about- _BANG_

  


The kids scream.

_FUCK,_ you just made a giant green streak across the paper. You don’t know if Roxy’s going to be that forgiving. 

  


“ _Dave._ ” Rose is keeling over with her sleeves drawn up, ragged and wheezing through her teeth. Her eyes are wide with fear. But Rose can’t be afraid. She never is.

And yet, she’s staring at you with furrowed eyebrows and a hand gripping the door handle, _hard._

  


You’re jolted back to a memory.

When she knocked on your apartment door, clutching her arms and stumbling over her words as she tried to tell you that you had two 3-year old little siblings living with your parents that you had no idea existed, and an inheritance given to you as next of kin.

  


This is something where she doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and it _terrifies_ her.

  


You stand up, reaching out to her.

  


“Rose. You- are you okay?”

“Dave.”

“Your favorite tv show not getting cancelled or anything?”

“ _Dave, this is serious._ ”

“Okay. Okay, okay.” You soothe. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  


She looks you dead on in the eye. You glance away.

  


“Have you been wearing long sleeves all day?”

“What?” That wasn’t the end of the world question you were expecting.

“ _Have you?”_

You look down at your covered arms. “Yeah, I guess so. Did I miss a memo on shirts or something-”

“-You haven’t pulled them up at all? Not to scratch at anything or to wash your hands? You didn’t draw anything on your arm recently?” Her voice gets tense, like she’s building up to something that she’s not necessarily sure how to explain. The news trickles on behind her.

  


“...No.”

She takes a deep breath, and turns on the lights. 

“Can you -please- take off your shades and pull up your sleeves. I have to make sure this isn’t a hoax.”

  


You skip on replying, blinking as you adjust to the change in lighting.

  


Left sleeve up.

Arm bare, just as it’s always been.

Rose sucks in a breath.

  


You drag your right sleeve up 

and feel your stomach jump up to your throat and right back down again.

Rose lets out a grievous _hah._

“So it _is_ real.”

  


You can’t stop fucking staring.

Because somehow, like fucking magic, there’s a dark outline of words gradually _etching_ themselves into your skin. 


	2. ROSE: Give fate your digits. No, just the middle one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little note to check the chapter titles before you dive in! they usually say whos pov its going to be, since this fic isnt gonna have a specific pov switching pattern :)c

Your day started out just about as normal as any other.

You fell out of your bed, got dressed and ready in a reasonable (at least, by your standards) nine minutes, drove to school, led Dirk and Roxy to their classes, and then went to teach a class of your own. Thankfully, your students seemed to sense that you weren’t in such a generous mood today, and went straight to work with minimal infractions. This was done much to your appreciation, and you returned it by rescinding any homework you were planning to give them. 

Karkat also came by, albeit not for long; Fridays are when each of your respective schedules diverge the most. Regardless, he dropped off some books he _insisted_ you borrow, with a couple chocolate cupcakes he baked with his friend and an offhand grumble about not watching the news recently. It would have been in good taste to reserve some for your dear siblings, but alas; they were too good to give away.It’d be a lie if you said you regret it.

Shortly after school, Dave dropped you off back at home and you helped Dirk and Roxy settle down into their own peculiar little hobbies.

Once again: a day just about as normal as any other, give or take.

So why the fuck has everything fallen apart _so fast?_

You couldn’t believe it. You _won’t_ believe it.

But seeing words inconceivably appear on Dave’s arm without any prior tampering or notice-

It _scares_ you. You, Rose Lalonde, frightened by fate. It’s embarrassing to be seen like this.

A kettle steams, and reality makes itself known once again, temporarily dissipating your thoughts. You push yourself off of the kitchen counter and go make yourself a cup of tea. 

To soothe your nerves.

And like one does a finishing touch on a dessert, you add in some in instant coffee powder.

To stay awake, because sleeping right now would feel like relinquishing your freedom to the throes of kismet.

Settling back onto the couch, you take a sip, watching advertisements flash by with tunes and catchphrases that annoy you to no fucking end. You press the mute button, and allow yourself to sink back into your thoughts.

It was only today that your world had been suddenly flipped upside down. Karkat’s mention of the news stuck in your mind. You haven’t been watching it recently either, but since Dave goes into boredom-induced anaphylactic shock when he watches something that isn’t a fictional movie, it’s your responsibility to make sure your family is up to date with the surrounding times. 

Consequently, you found yourself grading papers while Dave played with the kids. For the first half hour, you were able to get some work done with the sounds of the TV droning on in front of you.

Halfway through, you pulled your sleeve up to scratch your arm and _stopped dead._

Small pinpricks of bright green were somehow _emerging_ onto your arm, slowly but surely inscribing lines onto your skin. 

You don't have to be a literature teacher to know that they were forming _words._

Everything felt suspended in that moment. Confusion, intrigue, surprise, skepticism, yes. But not fear. 

Not until you looked up at the screen, giving you the answer to a question you never wanted to have.

You didn’t experience fear until you saw the news.

In giant, bold letters, accompanied by the discussion of keen reporters, lay the very dynamite that was bound to tear you down and dismantle you from the inside out:

-WORLD POPULATION IN DISARRAY. REPORTS OF PEOPLE FROM 18 TO 80 YEARS OF AGE GETTING WORDS INSCRIBED ONTO THEIR BODIES. MORE DETAILS TO FOLLOW.

_“And here we are with Janesa Parsel, tuning in with some new information following the love inscription epidemic. Good afternoon, Janesa.”_

_“Thanks Rick. In the short amount of time that these instatoos, skinscriptions, or soulmarks - as people have started to call them on platforms such as Twitter and Facebook- have popped up in the past few weeks, the internet has already caught on, creating conspiracy theories, articles, and even memes online while scientists desperately try to figure out what is going on.”_

_“Now, that’s one hell of a situation to be witnessing on the screen. Anything else you would like to say before we tune into sociologist Dr. Genera?”_

_“In fact, yes! A new hashtag #blankslate has started popping up, from people who have not received any marks on their bodies and are worried about whether they are simply late, or left out of the skinscription situation overall. More to come.”_

_“Thank you Janesa, and now_ _onto sociologist Dr. Genera.”_

It’s real.

Soulmates are real, and you detest it with every part of your being.

_Here’s a perfect person for little Rosey, despite neither of you not knowing shit about the other. That’s just simply how it has to be._

If who you are destined to be with is fated, is everything else predetermined as well? 

Your think about your childhood, with passing days of silence, isolation, and eating the same damn meal every fucking day.

Were you both bound to be hurt and to hurt and to feel so, so alone?

It spikes you in an area you don’t dare to think about. 

“Rose?” Dave’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a boot through water, but he has your attention. You don’t bother turning towards him, favoring another sip of your tea.

“Dave.” 

“It’s 2 am.”

“It’s Saturday. I plan to stay indoors today.”

He softly treads over to you and gently sits himself down, as to not wake your sleeping siblings; you never had any qualms about stomping around when it was just you and your mom, so it took some trial and error before you were able to change those habits. Dave, on the other hand, has always been able to quietly pad his way from one place to other. 

You know the root of it is something he doesn’t talk about, and you keep your distance from it. Likewise, he avoids asking you about your mother.

Dave settles down next to you, cradling a mug of hot chocolate. You gently lean against him and you feel the relieved slump of his body against your side. His presence consoles a bitter part of your soul; despite everything, you have Dave. He has you. Neither of you are the best of siblings, but you try. God, do you fucking try. 

It’s a specific kind of equilibrium: He boils you tea when you can’t sleep, and you make sure he has his thermos when he leaves in the mornings; he leaves you alone when you need the silence, and you do your best to not respond to everything he says with an air of insincerity; you exchange schedules to make sure neither of you get burnt out, and you always always _always_ check in to ensure Dirk and Roxy get the response and attention and the love that you both so desperately needed growing up yourselves.

It’s hard, but worth it.

Why are you reliving this all right now? 

You don’t notice the tear running down your face until you taste the salt from the edge of your mouth. 

“Oh shit,” Dave whispers, timorous. “You okay? I don’t know how rough today was for you. Was it another student? Teacher?” You shake your head.

“Is.. is it about the-”

“Yeah. It is.” You hold in a sniffle. You can’t fall apart now; you’ve withstood so much for your family. This _can’t_ be the crack that brings you down.

“Dave,” you implore, “what am I supposed to do now? Do you have any idea what this means? If this- soulmates, marks, whatever - is real, that means in the vast expanse of the universe, we have no choice but to be cogs in the greater machine. There is no way you could possibly understand how fucking-” you throw your hands up- “Fuck! Unbelievable? Ridiculous? Insane this all is. I hate it,” you choke, blinking back tears. Dave comes to your aid, pulling you close. You tense up.

“No no no no Rose, no. Come on, don’t jump into the grave that fast. I don’t have the money to pay for the funeral fees,” he jokes, and despite everything you snort.

“Seriously, though. I’m not saying it’s not that bad, but it… could be worse. At least you aren’t obligated to follow through with whatever writing’s on your arm. Looking away is a concept. I know your whole thing is basically sticking it to the man chilling in the big welkin but this doesn't have to be your destiny-assigned nemesis, you know what I mean? It’s kinda dumb, is what I’m saying. We’re like, what, one week in with the world with whatever this whole shituation is? A week for everyone else and just a couple hours for us, and you’ve already booked up the next three weeks of your schedule for periodic breakdowns and spontaneous philosophy. I obviously can’t hold that against you because it’s your major and all, but I don’t think jumping headfirst into wallowing and considering arson fantasy daydream number eleven is gonna help you out any. Keep the gates closed on any impulses before you get the fucking pole and just start vaulting over every single wall that’s there to make you stop and think things through.” He waves a hand around, ignoring your stare.

“Like ‘ _sorry Tessa I can’t attend your potluck because I have better things to do with my time like shaking my fist at the sky and also I hate you.’_ I heard you complaining about a Tessa once.”

What the fuck is he talking about? You don’t know a single Tessa.

“-I’m kind of imagining her with a blonde _can I speak to the manager_ bob that she’s been growing out so she can pin it up secretary style. Like Anne Hathaway playing the main romantic interest who’s solely interested in her dream job of holding her own journalism firm before she meets hunky guy number one. I don’t know how journalism firms work. Also I think I’m just a couple steps away from reinventing The Devil Wears Prada, which at this point should be acknowledged as the adult version of Mean Girls. You hate to hear it.”

You glare at him, and he raises his hands up in defense.

“Just think of it as a suggestion. Like it’s our distant aunt who’s a hardcore life coach coming to visit us and she gives us this ten-step list on how to improve our lives and conquer our inner demons.” 

He pauses and takes a long sip from his mug. 

“Like, could it help? Fucking maybe. Are we really going to start drinking spinach shakes and telling ourselves we’re beautiful in the mirror ten times a day?”

“ _Fuck_ no _,_ ” you blurt. Dave scoffs in agreement.

“Yeah, see what I mean? Sure, it’s annoying as fuck and it has the potential to cause an existential crisis, but there’s nothing we can do about it apart from occasionally looking at it with disdain. Hate to say it, but you aren’t special, Rose. I’ve got it, Aradia just texted me that she’s got it, I bet my ass your coworkers have got it, we all got some weird lovecore phrases on our arms that we aren’t completely sure what to do with. I’m not gonna go through the trouble of sitting on the toilet waiting for a shit to give when we’ve still got a lot on our plate. Otherwise, I just got a dope phosphorescent tattoo.”

Ugh. Is that so.

“You’re not useful in these kinds of situations, Dave,” you snap. “How rich of you to tell me to pay this no mind as if humorous indifference could be an applicable coping mechanism to anybody who isn’t you. Don’t tell me how to deal with my life when you don’t even know where to go with yours.” 

“Ouch. Harsh.” He looks away, and you know you’ve hurt his feelings. You turn away.

He _did_ just say you were overreacting on what is a perspective-changing event for you though, so. Tit for tat.

Neither of you speak. The silence is heavy with the weight of your implied apologies.

Maybe Dave has a point. Just a little. This is just one more middle finger to shine in the face of adversity.

He’s forgetting one thing, though.

“I acknowledge your sentiment. However, it’s hard to, and I quote, not ‘sit on the toilet waiting for a shit to give’ when I have to consider that I’ll still have this deplorable tattoo on my arm within my periphery at all times.”

“I think it looks kinda kickass, not gonna lie.”

“Dave.”

“Fine, fine fine fine. Sorry. Look, if this really is bothering you-”

“This tattoo is destroying the very foundations of my world-”

“Jesus Christ, alright, don’t bite me. Just stay there for a minute.”

With that, he exits the room, grabbing a pair of scissors from the kitchen along the way. What the fuck is he planning. 

You're not willing to get out of your spot in the couch to find out.

The seconds tick past, and you take the time to finish off the rest of your tea, risking an occasional glance towards your the time on your phone and TV screen.

2:23 AM. The streets outside are silent, only broken by the occasional roar of the late partier’s car engine. The smallest bits of light leak past your curtains and onto the floor below. The dead of night is welcoming, in its own peculiar way.  
-changing, but whether it's for the better or the worse is unknown-

2:25 AM. You can hear Dave fiddling around in his bedroom. Hopefully he isn’t too loud. Roxy’s a light sleeper.  
-numbers of people with writing on arms rising, censuses being considered-

2:28. Your mug is empty. You carefully set it down on the table in front of you, and settle back into the cushions.  
-DNA tests being conducted, scientists say nothing has biologically changed-

Dave shuffles back in, victoriously holding two pieces of cloth above his head like a child winning their first medal. He sits back down, tossing one onto your lap.

It’s… a shirt sleeve. The sight of it tugs on a memory too far back to recall, but-

“Is this from my shirt?”

“I guess? It was from when we were younger,” he says, taking a moment to ponder. “Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “I remember now. After you came out you wanted to change half your wardrobe and when we were going through your closet together and determining which shit you wanted to keep and which we wanted to give to goodwill I made a little third pile of clothes that I liked.”

“You made a pile of the clothes you wanted to have for yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“Without me knowing.”

“...Yeah?”

“And you didn’t just think to ask me for them? I would have gladly given them to you. That was the whole point of the closet raid.”

Dave hesitates. “I wasn’t exactly used to getting stuff I asked for at the time,” he says, hesitant. 

“Oh.” You look away.

Change the topic.

“So I assume this shirt was one of the few that you wanted to have for yourself?” You ask.

“Yeah, I kept it when I outgrew it. The fabric was too nice to just throw away, you know? I haven’t found anything else like it yet, like it was some weirdass single limited edition version of literally every purple long sleeved shirt ever. I know there’s no way that would be true, otherwise whatever dumb fuck store sold it would’ve gone bankrupt a long time ago.” He cocks his head, contemplative. “Hm. That would explain a lot. It was a monumental loss when the thing became too short to pass off as a crop top without getting a couple confusing stares. They were really fucking comfy as pajamas, too,” he laments, shaking his head. “Anyway. The sleeves still fit. If you really can’t take your eyes off it, just slip it on. We can get better coverups later. Or makeup. Makeup works.”

You look down at the roughly cut arm, and slowly slip your hand through. It’s a bit tight, but it works for now.

“Although the last time I wore makeup, it got really itchy, so I think a bitch might be allergic. Besides, it takes a miracle to find foundation that isn’t just 15 different shades of lightly toasted bread, so I guess we gotta rule that out either way.”

Wait, did Dave say _we?_

“Wait. We?” You echo.

“Well, I mean yeah,” he stumbles to a stop in his train of thought, looking at you. “I don’t really care about the whole thing but I thought I could wear it with you for like, solidarity and all. A fashion trend becomes a fashion trend only when multiple snooty fucks wear it around like it’s already a thing, you know? Otherwise you’re alone with a new look that makes heads turn like they're glimpsing the latest arriving visitor for a nude beach that decided to embrace the life and go all in with all of it out. Beach towels make a lot more sense to me now.”

You stare. He’d do that for you? Even after you snapped at him at something you knew he was sensitive about?

His mouth edges down in a frown. “Unless you wanna wear it alone? Like I can just leave this one here for yo-”

“No!” The volume at which you exclaim it surprises even yourself, and Dave frantically shushes you.

“No,” you repeat, “I- I’d like it if you wore it alongside me. Just for awh- for the first few weeks, then you can do as you wish. Please.” 

You shut up. There’s no need to say anything more. 

Dave might not fully comprehend why this is so utterly significant to you. Frankly, he might never. However, he does understand that as of this moment you just need someone to be there beside you, sporting the same shirt sleeve to make you feel not so foolish and alone.

He slides on the purple sleeve, flexing his arm. “Would you look at that. Twinsies. We match.”

You look down. Same purple sleeve. You can’t see a thing under it.

You shoot Dave a grateful smile. 

“I hate that. But we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again this is a slowburn, so youre gonna have to hang on for at least a little while until i get the simple foundations of this world down. i hope itll be worth it in the end though!! idk reading worldbuilding is epic but writing it is personally ass for me just because i have to consider time and how people would react to soulmates suddenly existing LMAO anyway i hope i wrote roses voice well shes wonderfully complex but difficult
> 
> secondly ive been making chapter promo art! i dont wanna post it here bc the images would take up a shitton of space but you can find them (and me) @ notedchampagne on tumblr and twitter. why does this sound like a youtube closing scene lmao go like and subscribe and dont forget to comment next video im going to address the callout posts made towards me for eating an entire shoe. seriously though please comment


	3. KARKAT: BE ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP.

_ Mmmm. Everything is too good to get out of bed right now. You don’t want to open your eyes just yet.  _

_ It’s warm. And fluffy. Where the fuck is your blanket. _

_ Reach around for it. Maybe it’s to the- _

A heavy  _ bang _ meets your forehead and arm, shooting a thrumming pain that resonates through every layer of your thick fucking skull and bones. 

_ Fuck. _

Did you just fall?

You try to roll, only to hit the side of your head onto what is  _ presumably _ a table leg with all the grace of a water bottle filled with toilet ceramics that succumbed to the bitter force known as gravity.

Yeah, dumbass, you fell.

Needless to say, fucking  _ ow. _

You sympathized with Kanaya when she said getting a carpet would have been too costly; She’s had a bad history with a vacuum cleaner (or three) in the past. There’s no use trying to change plain old bad fucking luck when you already know it’s going to end in broken tubes and torn cloth.

But with a slab of hard wood floor on your face and the ominous damp spot on the back of your neck that you’re  _ sure _ is Crabdad coming over in concern and snuffling against you, you’re starting to reconsider your support for the choices that led to an apartment interior that inevitably revealed its destined design for heavy-set surprise acupuncture. Or a classic wood-to-face beatdown, with mother nature finally reenacting her due revenge from the many times you sat your smelly ass down on some grass. You probably deserved that.

Good _ fucking  _ morning, Karkat.

The saccharine sweetness of the day can take its fucking leave now.

Crabdad whines, pawing at your cheek before jumping onto you like the heavyset asscheeks of a drunk frat boy who decided that  _ you _ were the best audience for his uninhibited flatulence. Fuck, why did you name him that again?

It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you don’t call him every synonymous variation of  _ Needy Asslick _ anyways. CD is just a testament to the lack of past you’s creativity and unrelenting bad choices in parenthood.

“Not now, you shitty loaf,” you groan. Your throat is so dry. 

With herculean effort, you finally manage to sit upright, rubbing the crust from your eyes with one hand and petting Crabdad with the other. He licks your hand in gratitude, followed by a grateful  _ boof. _

“You ugly pug. You’re the only fucker who understands me.” Your throat scratches. Right, water.

You shuffle over to the kitchen, CD on your heels. At this point, the movements of getting a glass of water and a plate of food for you both are so instinctual you could almost forget that this isn’t your apartment, but Kanaya’s. If only her furniture wasn’t so freakishly tall and designed in such a way that practically  _ begged  _ for stubbed limbs and stretched muscles wherever you moved.

You look back at the couch where you’ve been sleeping for the past week. 

… Yeah. Life hasn’t been treating you well.

Okay, well, in retrospect, you’re doing decent enough _.  _ Your arteries are pumping blood like they’re supposed to. Every day you walk CD to the park for some fresh air and Vitamin D, if nothing else. Occasionally you smile watching whatever’s on Netflix, some time after you’ve woken up from a completely normal 11 hour sleep before taking another 3 hour nap. For self care.

This is completely fucking conventional. Anyone else who believes otherwise is just an overachieving dunce who has their shit together, and who wants  _ that? _

...

Ugh.

You aren’t fooling anyone. 

You. You want that. You want to wake up to the soft sunlight grazing the edge of your bed, well rested and happy, instead of working yourself past midnight every fucking day before slumbering the weekend away. Possibly an occasional outing with friends that isn’t saying hi to them over the phone once a week. Maybe even a succulent that won’t fucking die on you for once. Simple things like that.

And just maybe, possibly, having someone by your side who would watch movies with you until you’re both yawning and exhausted. Someone to banter with and to hold and to  _ be held by  _ and to kick away if their feet are cold under the blanket.

It could happen.

You scoff at your own inanity. Yeah, right. It could happen about as much as a muddy shoelace could be mistaken for michelin-star spaghetti.

You hear the  _ click _ of a door opening.

“Karkat? Are you awake?” Kanaya’s voice filters out from the bathroom.

You loudly hum an affirmation, downing the rest of your water before answering.

“By all means and definitions, I sure fucking guess so. What’s so important that you have the need to call me into the bathroom first thing in the morning?” You pause, considering possible options. Hm.

“I’m not bringing toilet paper into the bathroom for you! That’s solely a  _ you _ habit that  _ you _ need to get over, pronto. I’m not going to be your magical toiletry dispenser forever, you know.” You reach down into the cupboard to get two new rolls of the aforementioned shit wipes, tucking them under one arm. “I’m probably going back to my own apartment soon. Not today, but soon. I mean, I’m paying for that shithole. And I’ve probably overextended my stay by now, even if staying here  _ is _ closer to the school and spares me the extra minutes spent biking there everyday. But when I do leave, who’s going to be your asswipe butler? Not me! You’re going to have to face the  _ consequences  _ of your  _ shitty actions. _ Excuse the pun.” 

You reach the bathroom door, giving it a tentative knock before thrusting the toilet paper in. Now that you think about it, should you just move in with Kanaya? The distance is pretty useful. Not to mention you’ve been told you look like a fool whenever you bike - or more accurately, a “particularly stressed out businessman who just got off training wheels and is late to his first conference, which I do not blame you for in any aspect as you are quite vertically challenged for such a lengthy bike,” according to Kanaya. You hate her. 

Whatever. As long as you’re not crammed in a subway making awkward eye and sleeve contact with a fuckton of strangers who you’ll never want to know.

Your arm’s still hanging in midair. You wave it around, clearing your throat. 

“Kanaya? Don’t make me drop it.”

“No, I don’t need your toilet paper. Could you please come in. I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating.”

What? You pop your head in through the door, placing the toilet paper on a nearby counter. Kanaya’s standing in front of the mirror, bunching her shirt up in her hands where she’s rubbing at a blot of…is that ink? 

Kanaya turns to face you, making startling eye contact. 

“Karkat, be honest. Did you find me going outside to get drinks last night? Or did you come across me returning back to my room wasted, possibly drunk enough that I could have made some very tactless life decisions within the past 24 hours?” Her eyebrows draw down in worry, looking briefly to the side.

“Or this week in general, too. Perhaps my memory is evading me.”

You distinctly remember Kanaya dragging a blanket and teddy bear with her as she walked onto her room long before midnight. You also remember her getting back out to give you said teddy bear in a sleepy delirium, sluggishly patting your head before shuffling back into her room with a comment on  _ dumbass crybabies  _ and _ suffocation. _

Probably not the best time to bring that up.

“No,” you reply, curt. “At least, not as far as I know. What are you getting at?”

“Then please, help enlighten me as to why I have somehow magically acquired this fucking  _ tattoo  _ on my stomach overnight, with nary any pain or blemishes to speak of.”

_ A fucking  _ what.

"A fucking WHAT?"

“ _ Exactly _ my sentiment! I surely don’t blame you for not having any knowledge to offer in this situation, but I am rapidly approaching terminal levels of bewilderment on behalf of what, exactly, the hell happened in the gaps of my consciousness.”

You nearly slip on the floor, stumbling forward to check if she isn’t just pulling your leg right off. “What does it say?”

“It’s hard to read mirrored text, Karkat.”

“Right, sorry.” Of course. You idiot.

You lean closer. Fuck, is it a tattoo? It’s not like you have one to compare this to.

Across Kanaya’s torso lies two lines of bright purple script, in a gentle calligraphy that looks almost  _ too _ perfect to be done by hand. Something about this doesn’t look right.

It’s like the longer you look, the more the words seem to  _ define _ themselves. Small edges and gaps, sealing in on their own and erasing any trace of imperfection that even hinted at its existence. 

Maybe you just aren’t sleeping enough.

Those words look familiar, though. 

“Are those fucking song lyrics?”

Kanaya turns back to the mirror, looking between her reflection and her skin before groaning in frustration. You hand her your phone and she mumbles a  _ thanks _ , taking a picture before letting go of her shirt.

Oh. Hold on. A familiar tune rings in your mind, accompanied by late night sleepovers spent singing around a phone with brushes in your hands. Also a tear or two, with early morning laments and mutual ragging. 

“Holy shit.”

“What? Karkat?”

“Kanaya, that’s from Lonely Hearts Club.” Also known as song #9 in Kanaya’s teen breakup playlist, a staple in her eight stages of grief after breaking up with her childhood crush and what she insists now is her facetious acquaintance, to your skepticism. You fucking knew it.

Horror dawns on Kanaya’s face. “Fuck.”

“Look, I know you hate to bring it up, but have you been in contact with Vriska lately? That would explain a lot of things.”

“It would resolve about as much questions as her involvement would open up more.” She shoots you a glare.    
“And no, I have not been in contact with Vriska lately. Not that it’s any of your business-”

“-I’m your best friend!”

“And also my best prier, despite my previous reassurances that I’m well over her. Thanks for your confidence.”

You look away.

“Sorry. It was foolish to believe that song still retained the same connotations as it did over a decade ago.” You shrug your way through the apology, as if your awkwardly feigned nonchalance could cover up the fact that you’re trying to catch yourself up on any dropped news in a desperate attempt to make sure you aren’t drifting apart.

You aren’t. You know that. The fear still creeps up on you every once in a while, though. It’s hard to believe she’s out there being a pretty competent human being, with a job she loves and other friends to mingle with while you’ve been stumbling over your own feet to fall back into bed day after monotonous day, too pathetic to finally step forward and make a steady change in your life for once.

Fuck. That’s a completely assholish thought, you self-obsessed dirtbag. Of fucking  _ course _ Kanaya has her shit together _. _ She has all of the discipline, motivation and common sense to keep her life in check. All of the qualities that  _ you _ clearly missed, considering your biggest responsibility is your dog and making sure you get enough sleep to teach your class the next day. 

And you’re back to yourself again. Fucker.

“Well,” you flounder, “at least it looks nice. And it does have some amount of significance to you, you know? Frankly, I’m kind of jealous.” You gesture at your own torso. “If I got wasted and drunkenly walked into a tattoo parlor, I can say with confidence that I’d wake up feeling like I got dragged across the asphalt doing the worm with a bloody scribble worthy of making me the next guest star at a show for documenting record breaking life mistakes,  _ not _ an impeccable tattoo with admittedly nice lyrics that you have a history with.” You’ve thought about getting a tattoo, but facing the situation of constant pain for multiple hours on end is enough to make you turn right the fuck back around and trash the idea entirely. You haven’t even considered the prospect of  _ money _ yet, much less what design you would have. There’s a high chance you’d wake up the next morning with impending dread and immediate regret, anyway. Your past choices are never something to be trusted.

Kanaya rolls her eyes, elbowing you to the side. “It does seem nice, sans the fact that I still have no idea how I got it in the first place. I suppose I’ll eventually find out regardless of my lapse in memory.” She turns to leave, and your heart clenches in apprehension. Kanaya’s the only contact you’ve had outside of work. You don’t want her to leave just yet. 

“Kanaya, wait.”

She turns, listening.

“How do you do it? Getting up every day with a goal in mind and the motivation to do it, not dawdling around like a bloated prokaryote wondering if this is all there is for you.”

Kanaya sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “To be honest, I ask that of myself as well. Usually I just force myself to start something, and once it began I find it harder of myself to stop. A flexible schedule can help sometimes, too.”

A pause. “Although, don’t take my advice too deep to heart; These are simply the habits I find myself falling into. I doubt any of us know exactly what we’re doing with our lives,” she smiles, and then steps away.

“Kanaya, another thing.”

“Seriously, Karkat?”

You wince, glancing down at the floor.

“Do you want to grab some lunch later?”

“Oh, Karkat. Not today,” she frowns, remorseful. “I have work to do.” 

“What was that you just said about a flexible schedule?” you tease.

“You’re funny. Maybe another time,” she placates with a smile, and it’s only then that you see the exhaustion carried in the slight bags under her eyes.

Fuck. You asshole. Of course she doesn’t have her shit all together- you just saw right through it, ignoring her fatigue and placing her on a pedestal that you wanted to reach. How haven’t you noticed before? Kanaya seems to be the one who’s the most composed over the lot of you, but she isn’t invulnerable. Late nights and deprivation will get to anyone in the end.

By the time you gather an apology in your mouth, she’s gone. 

-

As it turns out, Kanaya’s experience of having a magically appearing tattoo was not an anomaly, to both of your surprise. Three days after what Kanaya calls “The Tattoo Happenstance” and what you generously dub as “weird shit,” posts and threads pop up on the internet stating similar occurrences of overnight phrases inscribed into peoples’ skins. 

You won’t deny that you woke up a couple times, checking your limbs upon rising. For no other prominent reason; just to see.

You couldn’t help yourself; your curiosity got the better of you. 

Over the course of eight days, the word of these marks spread over the internet and onto the news, and you already had a folder on your computer with your name on it dedicated to debunking what, precisely, the fuck was going on. 

(The folder, in actuality, didn’t have your name on it. It was titled baby pictures, so that nobody would ever have the incentive to look inside it. Unless they  _ wanted _ to see your baby pictures, which in that case warranted a strangling threat and a close eye over the next couple of days.)

After downloading and transcribing a fuckton of pictures and experiences online, you were able to come up with a cohesive list of similarities, which were to remain true until disproved by someone probably smarter than you in these kinds of stuff. 

It goes as follows:

1) They usually appear over the course of a couple hours. This part you’re uncertain about, as nobody really keeps track of the last time they remembered their leg being bare and the exact time it suddenly  _ wasn’t _ , but seeing as the majority of people online had the transparency to express their sudden shock, you believe it’s a pretty safe assumption. 

2) People are horrifically bad at taking pictures. Like, what the fuck. You have a phone. It has a camera. From the surplus of selfies and instagram filters out there, you’re certain that it definitely isn’t hard to take a clear photograph of something, but  _ fucking nooooo. The second you have to take a picture of one body part with another body part you can’t help but make it as shitty as possible before slapping on as many blur filters as possible. _ _   
_ _   
_ Anyway. Half of the pictures are disastrously pixellated enough that you couldn't read the words, but despite that, the ink- or dye, or skin pigmentation, or whatever the fuck it may be, at this point- always seemed so bright. Like it stood out, or something of that manner. You were further convinced after awkwardly asking Kanaya if you could see her marking again, to notice that the purple seemed almost  _ luminescent _ against her skin. And then she pushed your face away, complaining about not needing anyone to sniff her bellybutton for her. Fucker.

3) For the percentage of people who were courteous enough to post pictures of decent definition, their marks apparently varied in terms of colors, words, and even  _ font _ . They all looked  _ too  _ perfect to you, though, so you’re still pretty skeptical. Image editing is always a possibility. As are your sore eyes.

4) As for the writings that you were able to transcribe, there  _ was _ a synonymous theme throughout them all. Some of them were vague, or just subtle enough to overlook, but you’ve read enough romance novels to pick out what one sounds like _ every single time. _

They all sounded like parts of a love confession.   
  


And the creep of loneliness down your spine made you feel like you weren’t supposed to be reading them.

Because they’re not for you.

At this point, you hit a roadblock. It’s like you have all of the pieces, but couldn’t find a way to fit them together in such a manner that you have the whole picture. Your first instinct was to contact Lalonde, as she  _ is _ the type to want to debunk things until she can be sure of their accuracy, but she turned you down. Which was...odd, frankly, considering her habit of poring over articles and peer-reviewed papers until she could draw her own unerring perspective on a single subject. Having her clearly express her distaste struck a chord, to say the least.

Maybe something’s wrong. You should ask her if she’s doing alright the next time you see her, maybe even invite her over to chat over test papers and tea. You think you’ve been a pretty ignorant friend recently.

Without her, you had a crapload of interesting, but separately useless information dawdling around in your empty head. You tried to not make it a priority. After all, you’re a fucking adult. You have tests to grade and a dog to dote on, not a bunch of time to throw to the wind. Even if inadvertently wasting time  _ has _ been a staple of your schedule for years now.

Pushing that aside.

You’re finally back in your bed, after another grueling week of work and finally getting enough of a hold of your life back to move back into your place.

You’re fucking exhausted. 

You had to wrangle two students apart in the hallway after a fistfight broke out between some shitty teenage drama (“ _ Shitty doesn’t do it justice. I think the gossip is quite juicy.” “Try being a teacher for four years and get back to me when you still think teen infighting is fun, Maryam. There’s only so much advice you can dish out before getting fucking exasperated by the lack of common sense and miscommunication between them all.” _ ), shop for groceries before the weekend hits (or else risking gritting your teeth through lines of people with no basic manners to their name),  _ and _ dust off the counters from your recent absence before practically collapsing into bed with CD asleep at your heels.

And yet, despite exhaustion weighing down onto your bones, you  _ can’t fucking sleep _ .

Maybe you should just wait. Stay still and let fatigue eventually take claim over your eyelids. You can’t possibly be too far from slumber. 

Patience is a virtue. 

...

Yeah, uh, fuck that. You’re reading fanfiction.

You feel around until you find your phone under the covers and whip it out, its screen searing your eyes until you fumble around to lower the brightness. 

Good. You’re comfy. You’re settled in. You open the filters and click on the alternate universe tag, because fuck knows you need to pretend your reality doesn’t exist for a hot second.

And the first result is-

Oh.  _ Oh God. _ Jesus _ Christ  _ you did  _ not _ need to know those combinations of tags existed holy shit scroll scroll scroll scroll scroll-

-there. That’s probably far enough. 

Your eyes catch a single tag, written in abundant capitals.

_ UNBELIEVABLY FLUFFY you GOTTA believe me _

Okay. You will admit that drew you in. It does sound nice. You continue down the list, becoming more enraptured with each additional detail shown in the summary (look, you like to be informed) and-

Huh.

_ Alternate Universe- Soulmates _

You-

Wait.

Holy shit. 

It all makes sense now. The magically appearing inscriptions, the way they all  _ radiate _ inexplicable perfection, how they all seem to be connected to love or intimacy-

Soulmates are real.

They have to be. Or well, they are. There’s no other suitable explanation for what’s going on, right? 

No. It’s midnight and you’re delusional.

But what other fucking option is there?? Entertain yourself with this train of thought for a second. If soulmates are suddenly tangible, why, after everything, are they appearing out of the blue like some already-drunk party crasher at an annual get together for people who have been dealing just fine before? Not that everything was completely  _ peachy _ in the past, but throwing this in as a last minute pinch of seasoning just resulted in a fuckton more chaos for everyone involved, including you. 

Your eyelids shoot open. Shit. 

_ Are _ you part of the involved?

You don’t have a mark.

The thought crawls up your back and into your head, leering. Nope. 

You pull the blanket up over you, as if the thin layer of wool could be a barrier for the impending weight of fear and loneliness pressing into you. It’s suffocating, piling in the back of your throat until you have to choice but to breathe out in a shaky sob. You’re not going to spiral over this. You’re not going to throw a crying shitfit over something that just  _ started _ happening, not to mention one that you don’t even know all the answers to yet. You’re not going to draw conclusions and make an idiot of yourself. 

There’s a soft press of paws on your calves, reminding you that you’re not having an existential pity party all on your lonesome. The neediest fucker in the world is currently harrumphing across your covers before curling up across your stomach in sleepy discomfort. You tug down the cover, petting him lightly. 

“Sorry my emotional distress woke you up, you self entitled heat thief,” you whisper. “Thanks for sticking by, though. Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. It’s not like you have the height to go down the stairs, much less go places.” He huffs in response. Not like you expected him to suddenly talk, but if soulmates suddenly popped the fuck out of nowhere, you suppose that’s not too far off the list. 

Eventually, the monologues in your head dwindle down to match the steady silence in your room.

Slowly, quietly, you flip around the pillow to the cold side and manage to drop off to sleep. 

When you wake up, you suck up your shame when you stand in front of the mirror, checking each and every one of your limbs to see if anything has changed. You try not to let your heart drop when you find nothing out of the ordinary for the whole day.

And the next.

And the week after that.

And so fucking on. 

The news updates with new discoveries, you avoid the topic around Kanaya until you can find a way to phrase shit in a way that doesn’t sound bugfuck insane, and your life moves on. 

There isn’t a day you don’t walk up to the bathroom mirror with reproachful hesitance, and try not to break a bone with how hard your hope drops every time.

Which leads to you now, with your senses currently muffled by the pillow that was audience to many long-forgotten nights of tears and screaming. In this wonderful time of 6 o’fucking clock in the morning, you’re leaning towards the latter. 

Ugh. Breathing through a pillow is so inconveniencing. Maybe that old scuba mask could be of use.

The thought itself makes you snort, and you roll over to chuckle in freer air. You’ll admit your friends had a point when they said you would go irrational lengths to keep screaming yourself hoarse (innuendo unintended. Shut up).

The memories bring a frustrated smile to your face.  _ What _ a fucked up group of friends.

Friends who, despite their imminent talent at annoying the shit out of you, made the studious shithole called highschool just bearable enough to be worth remembering.

Friends who you’ve mostly drifted apart with, despite your determined attempts to try and keep contact with all of them after graduation.

Friends who probably don’t wake up every day worrying about an absence of words on their skin, and what it means in the face of the universe.

You roll back over to muffle your woeful groan once again. And if you ever happened to shed a tear, that’s just between you and the pillowcase.

Fuck. As much as you want to mope, you can’t just lay here all day. You have work tomorrow and you need to feed Crabdad.

Five minutes. You’re giving yourself five minutes to pull your shit together for the morning.

You ass wiggle your way off the bed thirty minutes later, sighing. 

“Crabdad,” you call, “Get your lazy ass over here, you freeloading piece of shit.” From the corner, said freeloading piece of shit raises his head and happily patters over to you. You pick him up, shuffling over to the kitchen to where you can both get a decent breakfast. 

Maybe afterwards you can go the park again. A walk would do you both some good.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been over a month im so sorry dksljflksd usually i love writing karkat but this chapter just seemed harder to get out for some reason. anyway tysm for all the kind comments!! youre all wonderful and really kind and ill try my best to get the next chapter out sooner bc at this pace well be done in 2 years lmao. have a good day and hmu @ notedchampagne thats all


	4. ROSE: Make plans with Karkat. Prove Aradia wrong.

There it is.

The pungent smell of coffee. It’s disgusting.

The coffee machine in the teacher’s lounge seems to gurgle its agreement, spurting out another bout of grimy, doubtful fluid. 

You don’t like coffee. Personally, tea is your go-to when it comes to a drink that soothes your nerves and gets you to concentrate for a good few hours. It has none of the bitter, overwhelming qualities that you detest of coffee, and the cleanup is far easier. Never mind the offhand statements about them both being staining drinks; you’d rather throw away a single teabag instead of swiveling the sponge around the inside of your mug, hoping that you got most of the coffee grinds out. 

Unfortunately, there are no teabags in sight. Which is why you’re drinkless, and currently refilling Karkat’s mug.

You sigh, pouring a shitton of creamer and sugar inside before giving it a good swirl with your pinky finger. You turn around, cup of death in your hands, to where Karkat is waiting.

He raises his head from the table, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Rose, can you promise me something?”

He gratefully takes your mug full of what can be generously called coffee, considering it just looks like milk made in what was once a muddy cup. Which is a possibility that you don’t doubt either, as the juniors of this year have a mischievous streak going on that resulted in multiple visits to the principal. Such happenstances resulted in a bunch of eye rolling from students and teachers alike, since you all know there’s going to be some poor sap who will inevitably get gelatin slathered all over their desk table once again. As a result, you and Karkat usually keep to your own classrooms, ensuring your desks’ cleanliness and only heading by each other when there’s conversation that’s too casual to send over email. 

You found Karkat mock-sobbing over a small stack of papers in the teacher’s lounge, though, when his desk was empty of his presence. Said desk had a handmade sign placed over it, lovingly telling anyone who came by to “BACK OFF and leave me a moment of piece without you sniveling pee heads taking my sanity like it’s at a buffet, please.”

It’s fun seeing what he comes up with when he legally can’t tell students to fuck off within school grounds. 

You pointedly look down at what is presumably a pile of ungraded worksheets, then to the mug of flavored milk, then to his dead, soulless eyes. 

“I’ll make sure nobody robs your grave, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He rolls his eyes with a watery scoff. It’s like he’s at the brink of crying.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. Unfortunately, I’m not quite dead yet. The universe simply decided that the act of me dying was unnecessary, and so I just got a fast track to hell. Which is here, in case you didn’t know, with trying students and pretentious coworker teachers and a shitty everything like the fart-plastered sprinkles on top.”

Uh.

Is he. Okay. 

That was dumb. You know the answer is far from yes. 

It’s hard for you to show sympathy that  _ isn’t  _ nodding along to Dave sending you a reaction image of how he approximately feels for the day. You indulge in Dirk and Roxy’s personal excitements, of course, but when it comes to touchy emotions and tear-streaked confessions you’re  _ far  _ from the best shoulder to cry on.

You gingerly sit down next to Karkat, patting his shoulder. You hope your grimace doesn’t show. It feels… exposing. Unnatural. Immature.

“Alright, suck it up. Crying in this school only results in viral images and a cycle of teasing.” You pat him on the back once more. A snug cloth shifts against your arm, and you remember the sleeve you’re wearing under your dress shirt. You take your arm back, tugging your shirt sleeve back down. “What did you need?”

“When I die-”

“I thought we went over this.”

“Not with fucking  _ grave robbing _ , Lalonde, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He looks into his miserable mug of liquid. You can only imagine he’s staring at his reflection, pondering the meaning of life in his puddled gaze. 

“What the fuck is wrong with  _ me,”  _ he continues, mourning. “When I die, please make sure that my students go on without me. I mean, highschool isn’t the best part of  _ anyone’s _ life as long as they’re under its miserable, poorly-ventilated roof, but I just want them to continue trying their best. Make sure the incompetent fucker who takes my place doesn’t give them homework every fucking day. Also, be sure to check up on Tyzias every once in a while, she likes to come over and ask for whatever aimless ‘elder’ advice I can give when she’s going through shit. She’s got quite a morbid sense of humor, so I think you’ll get along just fine. Also, I’m pretty sure she’s a lesbian but doesn’t know it, which should provide even more reason for you to just, you know, make sure a couple of my students aren’t on the edge of breaking down and committing arson for self care. You know, senior, on the taller side, wears a dress shirt and black hoodie every other day-”

Alright. “Are you, you know.” You interrupt, waving your hand. “Coping.” 

The glare he gives you would be more intimidating if he didn’t sniffle while doing it.

“I’m perfectly fucking peachy, Rose, thanks for asking! You know, now that I’ve got that out in the open, I think I’ve just instantaneously solved all of my life problems! No more assheaded coworkers, no more weekend slumps where I do precisely nothing and feel awful for it the day after, no more insane universe soulmark surprises, no more half-taped together lesson plans-”

“I’ll help you with that last part if you’re willing to provide the venue.” Your words come out as a rush, quick to put a stop to another of Karkat’s laments. You appreciate him, you do, but god _ damn _ can he whine. 

It’s annoying, of course, but sometimes the words he says also feel like he’s inadvertently dragging out your issues into the spotlight for everyone to see as well. You’re similar in that prospect, you suppose. It’s something you don’t mention, but you believe he knows nevertheless. He’s smart like that.

“You’re really up for working on lesson plans together? Are you sure I won’t intrude?” Karkat looks back and forth between you and the mug. Somehow, you’re not even surprised; You wouldn’t put it past him to consider talking to his caffeinated reflection as a part of the discussion.  _ Ha. _

“I know your family is much more a priority over my ongoing  _ everything _ crisis. I’m a grown man; I won’t be butthurt if you were just attempting to put down some padding.”

“And I thought you were a keen listener, Karkat. My siblings will most likely be at home over the weekend, and as much as I would like to sow chaos in making introductions, it wouldn’t be productive if you were wishing to actually get some work done. So I would like to ask again: Do you have a venue in mind?”

Karkat pauses to think, downing the last of his coffee. He doesn’t look like he’s about to burst into tears anymore, which is always a good thing for you both. 

“I’m going to be honest, my apartment is a mess right now.” You nod sympathetically. Perhaps you could reschedule it to next week if he manages to hold his shit together until then.

“But!” He interjects, raising a finger. “I  _ do _ have a friend who I know is willing to lend her living room to us during that time.”

“Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow in inquiry, but he’s already humming a yes, putting his papers back into a neat pile. You check the time; 12:20. If you’re correct, he should be having a class soon (and in extension, so should you.) 

Fine. If Karkat’s friend can tolerate his loud presence, your addition shouldn’t be too much of a bother. 

“I presume you’ll send me the details later, then?”

“Obviously, Rose. What do you take me for, a plebeian?” 

“One that occasionally likes to sob into his hands in public places, yes. Have you started the Roman era unit yet?”

“It’s an easy unit for the seniors, which I think they’re grateful for. They’re burning out like flames in a candle shop during closing time. What clued you in?” 

The term  _ plebeian  _ is specifically related to that of a commoner from ancient Rome, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I have access to your school account,” you lie.

The look of shock on his face is enough to bring a smile to your own.

“Calm your tits, I’m  _ mostly  _ kidding.”

“I’ll be changing my password tonight.” He has a hand on the doorknob, looking back at you with a sneer.

You wave your fingers. “Good luck with that.”

And then you see Karkat’s eyes catching a glimpse of your arm sleeve from the end of your wrist. 

Your heart drops into your gut, and you brace yourself for a prying attack. His stare feels like stage lights.

The sound of teenagers laughing and complaining through the halls can be heard, and yet the silence between you is so thick you could cut it with a knife. You look Karkat in the eyes, searching for any hint of emotion that will help you decide how to parry his reaction, strike up a wall of defense and get him back where it hurts.

Instead, you see his eyebrows droop, his face falling with an obvious sadness. To the outsider’s eye, he’s uneasy. 

But you- you’ve been friends with Karkat for  _ years. _ You can see the near imperceptible slump of his shoulders, the flattening of his mouth into a pressed line to avoid frowning in a way that isn’t obvious annoyance, the clench of his left fist. You can  _ see _ the energy drain out of him. 

He swallows. “You too, huh?” 

So, he pieced it together. He’s smart like that.

You want to deflect his attention, turn his gaze upon himself so any risk of scorn would only bounce back to hurt him instead. It’s reactionary, defensive, and you almost ask him what it means to  _ his _ fate before you bite your tongue processing the words he said.

His voice is soft, sore. You’ve never seen him so defeated. Slowly, your shield is let down, and you take a cautionary breath. Your next words are carefully pieced together, stating all that he needs to know.

“This fate means  _ shit _ to me.”

The harsh ringing of the bell cuts you back to reality, and the raucous noise in the hallway becomes too loud to ignore. Karkat finally turns the doorknob, nodding once. You think he tries to smile. “I wish I could say the same. I’ll see you later, Rose.”

He leaves the door open, and you walk out after he leaves, heading to your own classroom. 

-

It’s an overcast day. The sky is a dreary gray, mottled with wispy clouds and the impending sensation of rain.

It’s funny, really, considering your phone informed you today’s weather was predicted to be only cloudy, and nothing more. Regardless, you brought your umbrella because you like to think you have a better sense of intuition than the daily weather report. That, and everything has been quite fucked up lately. Simply put.

You hear the first cold drops of rain patter against the ground before you feel it, and you can’t help but smirk at the quickening pace of passerby as you open your umbrella with a flourish. More often than not, you tend to be right.

You reach your destination as the streets are damp with rain, taking care to shake your umbrella out before heading up the stairs (they just keep happening) to the second floor. The hallway is silent, still, and a  _ touch  _ ominous. As if given the chance to look outside, you’d find that all the raindrops are suspended in time. It’s fitting.

You stop in front of the door with a skull shaped door knocker, and smile. It’s  _ definitely _ fitting.

You knock. The clack of the metal jaw resounds against the wood, and your breath catches in your throat. Just as quickly as it happens, the door swings wide to a familiar face, framed in tangled, dark curls of hair. 

Aradia pulls a lollipop out of her mouth, and grins.

“Rose! You’re right on time.”

“I hope so, otherwise I dread to have imagined keeping you waiting behind the door for your prompt and spooky greeting.” You step inside, setting your umbrella on the wall and toeing your shoes off. 

She laughs, hearty and deep, and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s nice to see you again Aradia.”

“It’s nice seeing you too! I have some cookies ready if you so wish to take some. You are always free to make yourself at home.”

And make yourself at home you do. It’s been a fair amount of time since you last remember being at Aradia’s house, but the months have made no distance between your friendship. It’s comforting, really- lazing on opposite sides of the couch, passing a small bowl of cookies back and forth.

Aradia and Karkat should start some sort of baking club. They certainly have the skills to make it work, and you would definitely benefit from gaining the favor of your siblings’ tastebuds when you bring home more of their creations.

She picks a cookie from the bowl, speaking through her chews. “I like how you managed to meet up with me again before Dave did, despite my expectation to see him sooner.”

“He got assigned babysitting duty for the weekend.”

“Ha! I hope he’s handling them well on his own.” She passes the bowl. “I don’t think I get along too well with kids.” 

You look at the far wall, decorated with various newspaper clippings on uncovered skeletons and shelves full of fossils.

“I will admit, your humble abode isn’t exactly entertaining to any child that isn’t Dave.”

Aradia hums her accordance. “He is quite childish, isn’t he? It does helps him get along with school groups, so his immaturity can be welcome once in a while.” 

“Perhaps so.” Dave always had a knack for entertaining Dirk and Roxy better than you have, and it’s no mystery; while you often have to feign your interest to the kids’ curiosities and overall zest for the smaller things in life, Dave never lost his naive excitement for much of the same things that little kids love. 

Sometimes you envy him. When you see him illustrating Roxy’s stories or signing back to Dirk letter by letter, there’s an unmistakable smile in his face, and it’s so.

Open. Vulnerable.

He’s able to let down his walls ever so gently, brick by brick. 

You think back to the night  _ The Text _ appeared on your arm, and your mortifying distress over it. Dave wasn’t much in offering verbal comfort, but he was  _ there _ for you. And he took away a brick from the wall that separated you both and tried to help in a way that he could. He gave you the sleeve of your old shirt and wore its matching pair right beside you. 

And in turn, you struck him with words that you knew would hurt.

_ How rich of you to tell me to pay this no mind as if humorous indifference could be an applicable coping mechanism to anybody who isn’t you. Don’t tell me how to deal with my life when you don’t even know where to go with yours. _

You’re certain you’ve made your amends, but it still feels like a stain. He didn’t deserve that.

You glare at your sleeve, tugging it further down. You don’t deserve  _ this _ , either.

“Something’s on your mind.” Aradia’s voice cuts through the silence, patient. Oh God. How long have you been caught up in your thoughts?

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long with my ruminating.” 

“It’s no problem, Rose. The breaks between talking are quite welcome. Now,” she leans over, taking the last cookie. “Tell me. How have you been?”

The groan in your throat is forced back down, and you sigh instead. “I have the casual or the honest shit. What are you willing to hear?”

“Whatever you need to say. I won’t tell anyone else a word of what you don’t want me to.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the anger simmer in your chest. “It’s been shit, really.” You take Aradia’s returning silence as an invitation to go on, and from there you let your words pour out, livid and honest. You talk about the absolute bullshit concept that is the predetermination of fate, how any higher beings out there took a look at the idea of free will and laughed their divine asses off, how any romantic inclination you may have with any woman will be further inlaid with the skepticism and doubt of  _ what if they’re the one “meant” for you _ , and OH-

An arm is thrust into your face, and you jolt backward. To your dismay, the now empty bowl topples over the edge and lies face down. You can almost feel the inconvenience of grainy crumbs sticking to your bare feet.

Aradia waves her arm again, and you finally notice what she’s pointing at.

Shit. Her biceps are… really nicely defined. You wouldn’t be opposed to having her hold you tight again. You remember the feeling, coupled with memories of close nights with shared breath. You won’t deny that those were great times.

Fuck. Rose, focus. 

On the inside of her arm lies a bright golden text, and you immediately know what the fuck is going on.

there you go, you are now offiiciially the liife of the party.  


That’s -oh god, you can’t hold back a laugh- unexpectedly absurd. Although, seeing as it’s Aradia, maybe this unique brand of soul-strung destiny is right in her league. 

You try to cover up any remaining traces of amusement, leaning forward to examine it further. It almost looks typed, its lines and corners flawless and long since filled in on her skin. (Does your own mark look the same? Impeccable, perfect,  _ permanent _ ?)

You look up at Aradia. “Is that what you’re really stuck with? For what you currently assume will be the rest of your life?”

“Likely so.”

“It seems a bit,” you pause, rereading the words. “Snarky, don’t you think?”

“Not any more than you are!” Ooh. Aradia continues, leaning forward.

“However, seeing as I notified Dave of this development a few days ago, I doubt this information is new to you.”

“Your deduction would be right. I was well aware that you were also inflicted with the mark related to this recent phenomenon, but I wasn’t necessarily sure of what exactly you had on hand.”

Or well, on arm, you guess. But that comment can stay right in your thoughts. 

“Well, now you do! And I want you to read it.”

She wants you to  _ what? _

“Excuse me?”

“Read it! Rose, I know you know I prefer to spend the majority of my time outside, taking in the world around us as it changes. This appreciation has not dwindled in the least. However, during these past few weeks I have come to observe that there is quite a lot of discordance amongst people online- how these words connect us all in a web of its own making, and what our reactions are meant to be within its machinations.”

She turns towards the window, seemingly admiring how the rain runs down the glass. There’s a familiar, far off look in her eyes that you’ve never been able to fully parse out.

“You see, I’ve made my resolution with- well, whatever this is, really! I’ve been okay with a lot of things before. My inevitable failures, grief, and struggles will come and go- or maybe stay, and going forward I may never be the same- and when these things happen, it might just serve a small purpose within a bigger picture.”

“And you’ve made your peace with it all?”

“Oh, no. Not at all! My assurances aren’t always these concrete. I hate a lot of things, really. With every action I take, I’m contributing towards inevitable outcomes that I will detest. But how do I alter such a course, and how will I know if it has been altered?”

“You don’t.”

“Exactly! Theoretically, I could behave in a manner so random fate will eventually give way and I will have avoided a major course of my life- and I would have no idea! So, I might as well do whatever for the fuck of it.” Aradia winks, and you see a small puzzle piece click into place. When fate shows you its hand, what better way to combat it than to start by shaking it outright?

“And that’s why you want me to read your mark.”

“Yep!” You’ve had the time to repair and heal after Aradia broke up with you- you’re just as close as you were, and you appreciate that stage of your friendship. It’s been years, but  _ oh god _ you can’t help but melt just the slightest bit under her smile. Your heart is a fickle and whimsy thing.

Get it together Rose. Back to the point. 

“It’s a clever strategy, I’ll admit, but how are you so sure that these are the rules these things go by?”

“I’ve been doing some theorizing alongside glancing at some sources online. It would seem a reasonable bet to assume that these words on our arms reference a particular line of dialogue, that of which determine a certain other person who is our,” she pauses, making quotation marks, “-’soulmate’.”

“And we’ve already gone through dating.”

“And honestly, I’m not really keen to do any more! What’s the worst that can happen?”

Aradia offers you her arm, and you lean in close.

She’s right. What could possibly happen? These are just words on skin. That’s all they have to be, and you’re about to prove so.

“There you go, you are officially th-” your tongue catches in your throat, and you cough.

Uh. 

Don’t worry about it. Try that again.

“There you go, you’re unofficially the lie-” Shit! Wrong word. Or words. 

Try again.

“There you go, you’re officially the party-” Again.

“There you go, you are officium-” Again.

“There you-” _ fucking  _ “-go, you are  _ officially _ the life of the part-”

Pain bursts on your tongue, and you taste blood. What the  _ fuck. _

“Wow.” Aradia’s eyes are wide with shock, her mouth set in a straight line. “That’s unexpected.”

You meet Aradia’s eyes, pleading. The joint sentiment passes between you, unsaid.

_ What the fuck. _

You can’t say it. You aren’t  _ allowed to _ , with the intention of matching up with Aradia’s soulmark. These aren’t just words on skin.

This is the worst that can happen. It’s all painfully real.

“My life is a joke.”

“This part of it, yes.”

You scoff. “Oh _ really _ ? Just  _ this _ part of life? As if this flagrant display of-of” - _ fuck, what’s the word-  _ “As if having my own words molded and stopped right in front of my mouth isn’t a telling sign that I don’t even have control over my  _ own words, now?” _

“This frustrates you.”

You hunch into yourself. “No fucking shit.” 

“Would you like some quiet?”

You nod, and lean into her open arms. 

It’s...comforting. You’ve long since attuned yourself to quick hugs from Roxy and Dirk squeezing your hand for as long as he can hold it for, but you’ve missed the feeling of just. Holding. Being  _ held. _

Aradia’s arms and hair nearly  _ engulf  _ you, and you fight the urge to brush away any strands that tickle the back of your neck. She’s so warm. 

The weight helps you ground yourself, keeping track of your breath as you let your mind still.

“Rose.” 

You grunt.

“May I ask a question about your kids?”

“They’re my siblings,” you correct.

“Yes, but they are kids. And they’re yours.”

“Alright,” you concede. “What is it that you don’t already know?”

“You and Dave made the decision to take custody of Dirk and Roxy, correct?”

You nod, breaking off from her embrace. The memory is hazy, but the sensation of shock running down your spine from that day never really left.

Denial.

_ “Good evening. Are you Rose Lalonde?” _

_ “Who’s asking?” God, it’s late.  _

_ Okay, it’s 6 pm, but you just graded 15 tests and the thought of engaging with another human being is enough to make you slam the door. And then slam it some more. _

_ “My deepest apologies, but your, uh, mother was found in a car crash-” _

_ Wait. _

_ Mom? _

Anger.

_ “-pronounced dead at the site-” No. No, that can’t be. She wouldn’t have let herself leave that easily. That’s not possible. _

_ You haven’t talked to her for months. Perhaps she wanted to make sure you regretted her whiny, unread texts, her invitations to visit home even though you know it will all end in tense silence and seemingly harmless phrases, jabbed with quarrelsome intent. _

_ That has to be it. Just another mind game with extra flair. _

Denial.

_ “-deepest condolences, but there are also some more pressing matters, so to say.”  _

_ “Get to the point, please.” _

_ “Of course. She has two children under her custody, your siblings I presume-” _

_ “Sorry. Are you talking about Dave?” _

_ “No, um.” A few glances at the phone. “Dave Strider? He’s also being notified about the situation, but I’m talking about Dirk and Roxy Lalonde.” _

_ “You must be mistaken. Dave is my only brother.” _

_ “...Ah.” Their grin stretches out into a grimace, and you brace yourself for whatever terrifying truth there is to come. _

Bargaining.

_ “Two four year-olds, Dave. Two! I can’t take care of them myself, and I’m not just going to turn a blind eye and pretend that everything is okay. Not after knowing that house was likely inhabited by three children instead of two and one adult.” _

_ “You don’t need to tell me twice. Look, I can drop by the store and grab some baby food- or uh, are they already too old for that?” _

_ “Yes Dave, they are.” You inconspicuously close your laptop, Google tab still open. Why are you even trying to hide it? You’re calling him on your phone. He can’t see you. _

_ “Okay, well fuck me for not being all knowing and shit. S’not my fault I didn’t want to become a pediatrician. Two kids are too much for either of us to handle alone right now, so what if I get Dirk and you get Roxy? At least for the time being, I mean, to prevent either of us losing sleep over having a sudden unexpected roommate. I can go grab some healthy foods from the store near me, and you’re closer to Walmart so you can grab some furniture and we can try to go on from there, I guess.” _

_ That can barely be called plan, but it’s a start. “Alright. I suppose we’re going shopping.” _

_ “I’ll see you later, loser.” _

_ “Likewise, you soft fuck.” You hang up, and try to breathe. Fuck. _

Aradia’s voice rings through your thoughts, jolting you back into the present.

“And you chose to raise them, to move into a new apartment with Dave to ensure that Dirk and Roxy don’t grow up apart.”

“Of course. It would be shitty of either of us to turn a blind eye.” You choose your next words carefully; close as you are, Aradia still doesn’t know the entire picture. “Dave and I agreed that despite the initial struggle, this was the best decision that we could have made during the time. Neither of us wanted to repeat the past mistakes of our guardians.” There’s a sense of relief in knowing you’ve avoided all of them so far.

“It would be pretty shitty! But you didn’t let them go, and I find it hard to believe  _ that  _ choice was set in stone. It may not have been an equal likelihood, but the option existed to place them into foster care or raise them apart just as there was the option to take them under your arms.”

“How are you so sure?”

Aradia shrugs. “I don’t know! I just feel it. Maybe certain paths are set for us, but that does not mean that there aren’t any choices we can make that will alter our lives. That also doesn’t mean that whatever we are destined for is bad! At the end of everything, we will die. And we will be forgotten. But you still made the choice to ensure Dirk and Roxy had a better childhood. I still made the choice to be your friend, and I think that turned out well!”

Oh, there it is. That smile. 

You melt. Just a little bit.

“Can I have another hug.”

Aradia doesn’t hesitate, holding you close again. So much has happened the past month, and you’re only human. 

If a tear or two escaped your eyes, neither of you mention it.

As much as you would have liked to stay permanently ensconced in Aradia’s arms, you’re a working adult. You each have your own responsibilities to get to.

“I appreciate you stopping by. The skulls don’t really make great conversational partners.”

“I can imagine. Let’s rectify our lost time soon, shall we?” You slip on your shoes. “Thank you for the extra cookies, by the way. I’ll make sure to let the children know of your culinary skills.”

“I hope so! It’s nice knowing my smaller hobbies can bring forth a few smiles.”

Oh, and the umbrella. Don’t forget that. “With your presence, a smile is inevitable from both parties.”

“Well, I do want you to be happy, Rose.”

“The sentiment is mutual, Aradia. Spare some time to check on your texts, will you?”

“I’ll try!” She gives you a gentle push out the door. “It’s late; you should be home by now.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” you agree. The rain stopped a while ago. All things considered, you should be able to go home with dry cookies before it gets  _ too _ dark.

“See you soon.”

“Farewell! Oh, do tease Dave on how you were able to snag a meeting with be before he could. Or not. I suppose that’s up to you.” Her door closes with a resounding click, and you resume your exit down the hallway.

That choice is up to you.

You have some things to think about.


	5. KANAYA: Stare In The Mirror

You can’t stop  _ staring  _ at it.

It’s such a perfect calligraphy. Every line is in place; no sign of a crack or stray pixel, like you might expect if you stared at the text on a computer screen close enough. A vivid purple- no, violet? Lavender? For all your years in fashion, pairing cloth samples together in the most selective of ways, you’re struck dumb trying to pinpoint the words that could express how  _ breathtaking  _ this looks.

The text is laid across your stomach, blending in with the stretch marks and one embarrassing scar diagonal to it all, yet standing out as if it’s screaming to be known. Like it should have been there your whole life. 

Could it really have been a result of a drunken escapade? Dark nights, bright lights, sweet drinks and shared breath with the woman who has haunted your dreams for the past 17 years of your life? 

You usually manage your alcohol quite well. If this happened as a result of being blackout drunk, it would be the first instance.

Even then, you don’t drink on a weekday. Karkat already said he hadn’t noticed you going out that one night, now some reasonable amount of time ago.

And, well. 

The last time you do remember going out, you-

_ No. No, it CAN’T be. _

_ You moved on. You cried, pleaded, and grieved your way through this path of healing on your own. You threw out everything she owned (well, almost everything). You deleted her contact (but still remember her number). _

_ You wiped your tears away watching Gossip Girls on loop, convinced you were fine to never see her again. _

_ How long has it been since the last time you saw Vriska? A month? Three? It doesn’t even matter. Not when the days all melded together, defined by her stark, ignorant silence once again. _

_ You just wanted to dance, get a couple of drinks, and leave. But  _ no, _ the universe couldn’t even let you have that. _

_ “Come oooooooon, Kanaya, lighten up a little why won’t you? What’s your deal?” _

_ Don’t say anything.  _

_ You want to scream at her, grab her by the front of her shirt and shout at her leaving, losing contact, disappearing for weeks at a time before sneaking up behind you like everything is just  okay. _

_ But you won’t. It’s not worth getting caught up over it. You’re over her. _

_ “Hey, I’m talking to you!” _

_ “What do you want.” Fuck. Shit. What was that about not saying anything? _

_ “We haven’t spoken in weeks! What happened, huh?”  _

_ Her going on with her life without a glance back at you again is what happened. Vriska steps in closer, eyes scrutinizing yours. You try to do the same, but the lights shift against her face- that scar, that smirk, that one sharp tooth- you just want to hold her close again. To hold her close, head against yours, her arms rested on your shoulders while you cup her cheek, leaning in close- _

_ “Remember when we were little and annoying? Well, I was okay, but you were annoying. But that’s not the point.” Her voice cuts through your thoughts. Fuck! No. Not again. _

_ You shake your head, scattering any remaining daydreams to fade away beneath the thrumming of the music around you. You’re over her. _

_ Vriska continues, taking a cold bottle of water from the bartender. “You used to fuss and bug and pry all the time. It was irritating, sure, but kind of fun! We could catch up on it all.” She says, throwing the bottle cap over her shoulder. Right; she doesn’t like alcohol. _

_ “What’s there to catch up on?”  _

_ “Whatever there is. You have like, an online store and shit right? Anything.” She sidles in closer, and you let her. Your fingers graze over her shoulder. _

_ “Anything.” You’re over her. _

_ “Yeah, that’s what I said. What’s gotten into you?” Vriska pauses, looking through you once again.  _

_ (You’re over her.) _

_ Her eyebrows raise with surprise, alongside a smile that you can’t- _

_ That you never want to resist.  _

_ (You’re over her.) _

_ By the time Vriska opens her mouth to speak, you’re already leaning in. _

_ Whatever she whispers against your lips is lost to the music, and you relish the feeling of getting to have her by you once again. _

_ Like you’re ten years old, bandaging a scrape on her leg and slipping in a hug before she shoves you away. _

_ Like you’re thirteen, painting her nails at a sleepover as she complains about your teachers. Wearing your new skirt, hoping she would notice while trying to commit the feeling of her hand in yours to memory. _

_ Like you’re fifteen drinking slushies at a 7-11, trying to get her to tell you what she’s been so pissy about the past five weeks.  _

_ Like you’re seventeen, finally finally  _ finally _ getting to kiss her like you’ve always wanted.  _

_ Maybe things will change this time. Maybe she will change, and you’ll be right by her side, waking up with her face next to yours. _

Or waking up alone.

Again.

Waking up alone, with dropped promises and read texts and a hollow cavity in your heart where you can curl up and cry.

Vriska never changes. Why do you always go out of your way hoping that she will for you?

Now, here you are. Sitting in front of your bedroom mirror, staring at the words you’ve committed to memory, and what they meant to you all those years ago.

Moving over Vriska. Walking onwards from your past.

And now, supposedly,  _ soulmates. _ Karkat’s theory was a farfetched one, but you can’t help but admit that it made some sense.

The words have to have some meaning, don’t they? They wouldn’t just appear with no sense or connection whatsoever. They’re meant for  _ you _ . 

And this song was always about  _ her. _

Could it be?

You stifle the spark of hope in your heart. No. Not again. You aren’t going to get your hopes up for a girl who left you hopeless. Unless she changes of her own volition, you refuse to entertain the thought.

Try not to remember all the broken promises you made of the same sentiment. You sigh.

Lonely hearts club.

Hilarious.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTERS REALLY SHORT AND SAD im sorry fjds;lkaflsa if its any consolation i spent all this time working on the intermission ahead which will be super fun for me and hopefully for yall as well lmao but i realized i had to make an introductory chapter for kanaya alongside dave rose and kkat so! :) sorry lmao
> 
> also i work better considering deadlines and im thinking of trying (emphasis on try) to update at least every other week so what day would you prefer i update on?? that aside i hope youre all staying safe and doing okay, take care <33


	6. [INTERMISSION] DIVAGATE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small disclaimer: i do intend the intermissions to be a sort of timeskip, however i suck at real life time management, so my fictional time management is probably worse lmao. that being said, the tweets all have the same date of publication (today) but they were meant to have the sense of being sent over a period of time, so just ignore that detail and well be all good lmao. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Skinscriptions, Instattoos, Soulmarks- What are they, and what do they mean?

Wake up this morning with a weird tattoo on your body, with no memory of ever getting one? You’re not alone- plenty of people have faced their morning with regrettable drunk tattoos, but this is something else. From as early as March, people have started posts about getting words inscribed onto their body within a few hours, with many failed attempts on getting it removed. As time passed, more and more people also got these curious tattoos… _ Read More _

CG: KANAYA.  
CG: KANAYA.  
CG: KANAYA. GUESS WHAT I FOUND.  
GA: Is It Another Dog  
CG: WHAT? NO. CRABDAD IS MY ONE AND ONLY.  
CG: ANYWAY, IT SEEMS AS IF YOUR EXPERIENCE ISN’T UNIQUE.  
CG:

_ _

  
GA: Is This Really Worth Waking Me Up For  
CG:  
GA: ...  
GA: Thanks  
GA: This Is Funny I Guess  
CG: OH, THANK FUCK. I THOUGHT YOU WERE MAD AT ME.  
GA: Well I Was Debating On Whether To Laugh Or Sigh  
GA: So That May Be True In A Way  
GA: Anyway Have You By Any Chance Gotten A Similar Kind Of Mark To Mine Recently  
CG: UH.  
CG: NO.  
GA: Oh  
CG: DON’T SAY SORRY. I’M FINE.  
CG: REALLY.  
GA: Are You Really  
CG: DUH. WHY WOULDN’T I BE?? AGAIN, I’M FUCKING **FINE**.  
CG: LOOK, I’M NOT GOING TO DROP EVERYTHING AND CRY WHEN THE UNIVERSE DECIDES TO FUCK ME OVER PERSONALLY. IF IT DECIDES THAT I’M APPARENTLY SO UNLOVABLE NO PERSON ON THIS EARTH WOULD EVER WANT TO PERMANENTLY BE WITH ME, THEN SO FUCKING BE IT.  
CG: OR SO FUCKING *NOT* BE IT. WHATEVER WORKS. I  
CG: I STILL  
CG: I STILL BELIEVE IN LOVE, OKAY?  
CG: EVEN WHEN IT DOESN’T SEEM TRUE ENOUGH FOR ME.  
CG: I MIGHT NEVER GET MARRIED. OR MAYBE I WILL! MAYBE I’LL HAVE A MILLION LOVERS BY THE TIME YOU GET MARRIED.  
CG: I DON’T WANT TO LOSE HOPE NOW.  
GA: Youre Not Going To  
GA: It May Seem Redundant But I Believe In You  
GA: Ive Known You For A Long Time  
GA: As Annoying As You May Be You Are Also Incredibly Memorable  
GA: You Have Undoubtedly Made An Impact On My Life As Well As Others  
GA: Even If You Arent That Much In Contact With Them Anymore I Assure You You Hold A Place In Their Hearts  
GA: And I Have Confidence That You Will Find Someone That Will Cherish You As Much As You Cherish Your Loved Ones  
[carcinoGeneticist is idle!]  
GA: Karkat  
GA: Are You Crying  
GA: If You Are I Take It Back  
CG: NO, DON’T!  
CG: AND I’M NOT CRYING. FUCK YOU.  
GA: Ha Ha  
GA: There You Are  
CG: THANK YOU  
CG: REALLY  
CG: I NEEDED THAT.  
GA: What Is That All  
GA: Cat Got Your Tongue  
CG: WHAT, YOU EXPECT ME TO GO OFF ON ANOTHER SPIEL ABOUT HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU BEING MY ONLY CLOSE FRIEND THAT HASN’T DRIFTED APART WITH ME OVER THE YEARS?  
CG: A LITTLE VALIDATION SEEKING, DARE I SAY.  
CG: THAT WAS A JOKE. BECAUSE I DEFINITELY CAN. JUST GIVE ME A SECOND.  
GA: No Thats Not Necessary  
GA: That Line Was Also A Joke On My Part  
CG: OH.  
CG: IN MY DEFENSE, IT’S HARDER TO READ YOU THROUGH TEXT.  
GA: And Its Easy As Always To Read You  
CG: HAR HAR.  
CG: OH, BY THE WAY.  
CG: MY DAD SAYS HI.  
GA: Thats Very Sweet Of Him  
GA: Let Him Know I Say Hi Back  
CG: WILL DO.  
GA: And One More Thing  
GA:

  


sonia | soulmate mp in pinned  
@maymayjun3

is it just me, but did the amount of soulmate fanfics ive read do nothing to prepare me for when soulmarks Actually happened?? we gotta give the universe more credit dasjkfds;kfkds  


❤ 7.3K 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

sonia | soulmate mp in pinned  
@maymayjun3

replying to  @maymayjun3

wow this post blew up!! thanks for all the new follows haha, ill probs be making this into a soulmate meme thread bc my friends have been pestering me with their ideas lmao  


❤ 567 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

sonia | soulmate mp in pinned  
@maymayjun3

replying to  @maymayjun3

credits to @livlaughlove for this one!!

❤ 5.8K 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

sonia | soulmate mp in pinned  
@maymayjun3

replying to  @maymayjun3

thanks for this idea @roben_hood jkfdslajfa youre my most tolerable brother. also congrats on the soon to be bf ;)

❤ 8.2K 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

micah  
@beanieband

OH MY GOD I GOT A SOULMARK jkd;safsda i. what the fuck  


❤ 20 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

Raenne // wuv you mike  
@Raesen_B

replying to  @beanieband

I bet you $20 it says something like “You gave me breath to cool down the fires of my heart”

❤ 7 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

micah  
@beanieband

replying to  @Raesen_B

jumping to conclusions on how youre my soulmate are you  


❤ 3 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

Raenne // wuv you mike  
@Raesen_B

replying to  @beanieband

Um. Am I

❤ 1 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

micah  
@beanieband

replying to  @Raesen_B

idk actually!! the whole thing is still inking in (is that a thing. Inking in when nothings really being inked)  
whatever it is if it isnt something overly cheesy youve said before im calling bullshit on the universe  


❤ 5 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

Raenne // wuv you mike  
@Raesen_B

replying to  @beanieband

Sap.

❤ 2 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

micah  
@beanieband

replying to  @Raesen_B

whatever. i suddenly dont know you

❤ 5 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

GA: Hi Mr Vantas  
GA: It Seems That Karkat Forgot I Can Contact You If I Wish To Do So  
CG: Hi Kanaya! Hope you’re doing well.  
CG: Take it easy on my boy, I just asked him to say hi for me.  
CG: He tries to call me every weekend, did you know that? I usually put him on “speakerphone” while I’m going about the rest of my day.  
CG: He talks a lot L.O.L. I suppose I only have myself to blame!  
GA: I Wasnt Aware Of That But It Sounds Like Something He Would Do  
CG: I know right! I love my son.  
GA: Cheers To That  
GA: How Have You Been  
CG: Oh, I’ve been fucking great! Work is busy as always, but I started a garden on my patio and this week I harvested some okra. A bit tough at the beginning as one might expect, but hard work always pays off when you put enough heart into it.  
CG: As for current events, I will say that Mew and I did get those soulmarks! They’re quite sweet, haha.  
[colloquialGibe sent an image!]  
[colloquialGibe sent an image!]  
CG: Mew said her words to me while we were still young and dating: “I could nefur get tired of you, loser.” The loser part is necessary, she said.  
CG: My side of the story is…  
CG: Well, as you can see from the image, I spoke quite a lot L.O.L.  
CG: All in all, we are very much in love!  
CG: But enough about me, how are you? Give me the “deets”, as I heard.  
GA: Well If You Insist  
GA: I Had The Recently Aforementioned Soulmark Appear On Me  
GA: Its Been A Lot To Process But I Think I Can Deal With Its Existence  
GA: Hm  
GA: Karkat Will Fill You In On His Side Of The Story  
CG: Oh, he has. In great detail and vigor.  
GA: Im Sure  
GA: A Certain Orchid In The Greenhouse Has Flourished Quite Magnificently So I Am Planning To Take A Snippet Of It And Grow It In My Own Home  
GA: I Havent Seen Vriska In A While And Quite Frankly I Hope I Dont  
GA: Thats About All I Have To Say  
CG: Well, that’s lovely! From what I hear of the orchids, it seems that you will have a prospering indoor garden in no time! Dedication and tenacity is key.  
GA: Well Thanks Man  
GA: I Try  
CG: I’m glad to hear that.  
CG: And Kanaya, pay no mind to Vriska. Intertwined as you two once were, your paths have diverged. Go and live that life of yours to the fullest, alright?  
GA: Oh Um Thanks Again  
GA: Ill Keep That In Mind  
CG: That’s all I ask!  
CG: Take care of yourself, Kanaya. Don’t be a stranger!  


micah  
@beanieband

MY FUCKING GIRLF RIEND EVERYONE. im losing my MIND

❤ 784 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

micah  
@beanieband

replying to  @beanieband

SAPPHO. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

❤ 210 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

Raenne // wuv you mike  
@Raesen_B

replying to  @beanieband

You never complained before. What gives ;P  


❤ 56 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

*~Iris~*  
@telepathologica

Jdsfkal;jskdl is it just me or is anyone else worried that they dont have a soulmark yet 😬😬

❤ 2.3K 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

Adonna  
@Adonna2830

replying to  @telepathologica

I didn’t edit the thing properly, but oh my god do I wish I were you.  


❤ 1.7K 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

*~Iris~*  
@telepathologica

replying to  @Adonna2830

Damn that sucks. ur pfp is cute though are you single  


❤ 15 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

CG: KANAYA.  
CG: KANAYA, ARE YOU THERE?  
CG: PLEASE BE THERE KANAYA. THIS IS A *FUCKING* **EMERGENCY**  
GA: What  
GA: Karkat What Is It  
CG: I’M STUCK AT THIS PAINFUL, USELESS ASS MEETING.  
CG: CRABDAD IS AT HOME AND IT’S THIRTY MINUTES PAST HIS DINNERTIME.  
CG: MY POOR SWEET BABY IS GOING HUNGRY.  
CG: DO YOU KNOW THE PAIN OF KNOWING YOUR CHILD IS GOING UNFED, KANAYA?  
CG: EVERYTHING MY COWORKER IS SAYING IS GOING IN ONE EAR, BOUNCING AROUND MY COARSE AND EMPTY SKULL, AND IS GOING RIGHT OUT THE OTHER.  
CG: FUCK YOU, DAN. I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT THE INTRICACIES OF THE UPCOMING PARENT-TEACHER MEETINGS. WE ALL KNOW THEYRE JUST THERE FOR SHOW.  
CG: WHAT DO WE GET FROM THEM? SOME EMBARRASSED STUDENTS, COMPLAINING PARENTS, AND A HALF-PISSLOAD OF TEACHERS DISCREETLY CHECKING THEIR WATCH.  
CG: THE OTHER HALF IS *OKAY*, I GUESS. SOME OF THEM TRY TO GIVE FEEDBACK THAT ISN’T JUST VERBAL FERTILIZER FOR LIES TO GROW ON.  
GA: I Say This In The Nicest Way Possible  
GA: How Fucking Dare You Interrupt My Golden Girls Marathon  
CG: I CAN’T FEED CRABDAD!?  
CG: DID YOU NOT READ A SINGLE WORD OF MY ACADEMIC PLIGHT?  
GA: Oh I Assure You I Did  
GA: But This Is Ice Cream Thursday  
CG: THIS IS CRABDAD THURSDAY.  
CG: IN FACT, EVERY DAY IS CRABDAD THURSDAY.  
GA: I Regret To Inform You That Is Not How The Gregorian Calendar Works  
GA: However Your Measly Attempt Is Duly Appreciated  
GA: Anyway He Is Likely Asleep And Fine  
GA: A Slight Delay In Schedule Will Not Hurt Him  
CG: HE IS KEPT ON A STRICT EATING, GROOMING, WALKING, *AND* POTTY SCHEDULE.  
CG: NOT SLEEPING. THAT TIRED FUCK WILL SLEEP WHENEVER HE WANTS.  
GA: He Is A Tired Fuck Isnt He  
CG: WATCH YOUR MOUTH. THAT’S MY SON.  
GA: His Name Is Crabdad  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: PLEASE FEED HIM KANAYA KANAYA PLEASE FEED HIM HE IS JUST MY LITTLE BABY HE DESERVES SO MUCH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HE IS MY F  
CG: UCKING BABY  
CG: SORRY ABOUT THAT DAN LOOKED OVER AND I HAD TO PRETEND I WAS CASUALLY CHECKING EMAILS LIKE MY OWN KIN ISN’T CRYING ALONE, WONDERING WHEN I WILL BE BACK TO GIVE HIM HIS WELL DESERVED BELLY SCRITCHES.  
GA: Ugh  
GA: Fine  
CG: THANK YOU.  
GA: Uh Huh  


[grimAuxiliatrix sent a file!]  


CG:  
CG: UH  
GA: This Is A Compiled List Of All The Times You Interrupted Me To Tend To Something You Oh So Disastrously Needed Done As Soon As Possible  
GA: Numbered And Alphabetized  
GA: With Dates And Screenshots  
GA: I Hope You Will Keep This In Mind The Next Time I Ask You To Pick Up Some Garments And Other Necessities Needed  
GA: As You Know Ice Cream Thursday Is Of Utmost Importance  
CG: HOLY SHIT.  
GA: I Know.  
GA: Ive Arrived At Your Apartment Now  
CG: PLEASE USE THE SCALE AT THE CORNER OF THE COUNTER TO MEASURE THE EXACT AMOUNT OF GRAMS NEEDED TO FEED CD.  
CG: HE’S ON A STRICT DIET TO MAINTAIN HIS HEALTH.  
CG: IF HE WONT EAT HIS FOOD THERE’S A TUPPERWARE ON THE BOTTOM SHELF OF MY FRIDGE THAT HAS SOME CHICKEN BROTH. GIVE HIM ENOUGH TO COVER THE BOTTOM OF HIS DISH.  
CG: BUT NOT TOO MUCH! OTHERWISE HE WON’T EAT THE NEXT DISH UNLESS IT CONTAINS THE SAME AMOUNT OF FLAVOR. HE’S SPOILED LIKE THAT.  
CG: WHILE YOU’RE THERE PLEASE GIVE HIM A KISS FOR ME AND TELL HIM I LOVE HIM AND WILL BE BACK AS SOON AT THIS AUDITORY TORTURE ENDS.  


[grimAuxiliatrix sent an image!]  
[grimAuxiliatrix sent an image!]  
[grimAuxiliatrix sent an image!]  


GA: There  
CG: I OWE YOU SO MUCH.  
GA: I Know  
GA: Now If You Dont Mind Ill Be Taking Your Oreos On My Way Back Home  
CG: OH, WHAT THE FUCK?  
GA: :)  


MV Fashions | Commissions Open  
@virgo_fashions

Due to recent requests, we are now currently working on adding limb sleeves for soulmarks into our store! It will take some time. We appreciate your patience and interest.  


❤ 956 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

MV Fashions | Commissions Open  
@virgo_fashions

As per our tweet above, we would like to know: Would you prefer we incorporate a custom decorative element to the sleeves, or keep them simple?  


25%Decorative Element

58%Simple

14%I Like Both

3%Other (Comment Below)

33936 votes • Final results  
❤ 956 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

If you looked at my bio you’ve lost  
@1nstlgator

replying to  @virgo_fashions

Your shit sucks lmao. Why are you trying to act like you’ll ever make it off the ground when the crap you make is so clearly hideous and boring? Give up before you embarrass yourself.  


❤ 7 1:37 PM - June 19, 2020

KV  
@carcinogenetic

replying to  @1nstlgator

EX-FUCKING SCUSE ME? WHO THE HELL ARE *YOU* TO SAY WHAT THE HELL IS UGLY WHEN YOUR REVOLTING ATTITUDE IS CLEARLY THE HIGHEST BAR OF TOLERABLE YOU’LL EVER REACH? THIS ACCOUNT STARTED FROM NOTHING, AND SINCE THEN IT’S GROWN TO SKYBREAKING LEVELS OF POPULAR.

❤ 69 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

KV  
@carcinogenetic

replying to  @1nstlgator

I MEAN, COME ON: 15K FOLLOWERS? HOW THE FUCK IS THAT NOT “MAKING IT OFF THE GROUND”? NOT LIKE YOU HAVE ANY SAY IN IT, WITH YOU AND YOUR 3 FOLLOWERS. OH, SORRY, I SUPPOSE YOUR SORRY RELATIVES WOULDN’T COUNT IN THIS. MAKE THAT A FUCKING ZERO, JUST LIKE YOUR FASHION SENSE.  


❤ 58 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

im baby??  
@kirbylibby

okay okay i KNOW its an old meme but its super relevant XDXD

❤ 638 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

ask me about my beets  
@Skyjan69

replying to  @kirbylibby

oh my god libby ur so old now. using this meme immediately made your entire head of hair gray over i hope you know that  


❤ 10 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

ask me about my beets  
@Skyjan69

lmao

❤ 1.7K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

im baby??  
@kirbylibby

replying to  @Skyjan69

YOU FUCKIN HYPOCRITE  


❤ 4 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TG: hey ara can i call in sick  
TG: not that im sick im healthy as a fucking horse antibodies love me doctors hate me with this one simple trick  
TG: but uh  
TG: roxys  
TG: not doing so well today  
TG: nothing too major i think its just a little cold but you can never be too cautious right  
AA: oh no thats tough!  
AA: you definitely can take the day off  
AA: are you sure everything is okay?  
TG: oh fuck thank you  
TG: and yeah more or less  
TG: i pulled out all the stops  
TG: pillows tissues and the like  
AA: have you tried honey and lemon  
TG: have i tried what  
AA: its a drink that seems to be quite useful in situations like these  
AA: personally its quite soothing for the throat and helps speed up the recovery process :D  
AA: i do believe its not uncommon  
AA: ?  
TG: whoa no i havent heard of it  
TG: sounds like a tea  
TG: not like id really know about homemade feelgood stuff considering my bros goto bandaid was water and sucking it up  
TG: metaphorically not actually slurping up whatever blood leaked out like a vampire  
TG: or a vaccum cleaner for fluids  
TG: ew  
AA: 0_0  
TG: but like better late than never amiright  
AA: yes you are  
TG: do i gotta know a certain recipe  
TG: complete some quick quest to get the best ratio of nutrients or do i just  
AA: well  
AA: lemon and water are the essential components  
AA: ginger too i believe, if youre feeling up to it!  
AA: and honey to taste  
TG: noted  
TG: call me mom because ive got this caring shit on lockdown  
TG: or dave i mean  
TG: yeah thats probably better  
TG: but seriously though thanks aradia i owe you one  
AA: its no problem dave  
AA: anything to help a friend ^u^  
AA: see you soon  


Nora #coding queen 101   
@moopsloops

IDK about some of you but im saying FUCKIT to this whole “soulmark” shit. Weve fallen in and out of love for years, and i, for one want to fall in love getting to know someone instead of just trusting them with whatever their first words to me are.

❤ 2K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp  
@MothmanRothman

replying to  @moopsloops

im loving the spirit here my dude, but i dont think the soulmarks are based on someones first words to you. if thats true my soulmate is waaaay too forward lmao  


❤ 27 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Nora #coding queen 101   
@moopsloops

replying to  @MothmanRothman

Did you.. Not read a single thing i said?? I dont CARE about whatever the soulmark words thing is about, im saying that id RATHER fall in love getting to know someone instead of basing my whole perspective on if theyre my soulmate or not.  


❤ 31 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp  
@MothmanRothman

replying to  @moopsloops

once again same boat/hat but howre you gonna know if theyre your “soulmate” right away. Like assuming you get to know someone and fall in love with them first if they say the magic soul words or w/e didnt you technically fall right into predestinations hands  


❤ 18 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Nora #coding queen 101   
@moopsloops

replying to  @MothmanRothman

I never *said* that if whoever im dating happens to be my soulmate, im going to break up with them to stick it to destiny, im just saying that IM going to fall in love SANS soulmarks  


❤ 17 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp  
@MothmanRothman

replying to  @moopsloops

lmao good for you. so is everyone else  


❤ 4 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp  
@MothmanRothman

replying to  @moopsloops

again. I dont think the soulmark thing is based on someones first words to you so i feel like its guaranteed that everyones gonna fall in love sans soulmarks initially. ur not like. Special

❤ 5 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TRIPODCAST SPOILERS!!  
@Lannie_K

replying to  @moopsloops

lmao you said sans. Sans undertalesss

❤ 9 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp  
@MothmanRothman

lmao she blocked me

Its ross, yeah i have a lisp @MothmanRothman

again. I dont think the soulmark thing is based on someones first words to you so i feel like its guaranteed that everyones gonna fall in love sans soulmarks initially. ur not like. Special

❤ 7 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TRIPODCAST SPOILERS!!  
@Lannie_K

replying to  @MothmanRothman

She blocked me too! I just made an undertale joke, like wtf

❤ 1 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TG: holy fuck it worked  
TG: roxys good as new thank you so fucking much  
TG: i owe you my life  
AA: nothing that drastic! but i do appreciate your thanks  
TG: hell yeah epic friendship time  


ZOMBIEHEART ALBUM OUT NOW  ✔  
@maddiekane

Hey everyone, the album you’ve waited so long for is OUT NOW: ZOMBIE HEART  
Hit me and my bandmates up with your thoughts using the #zombieheart hashtag, I might just retweet some of them!  


❤ 2.3M 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

13K people are talking about this

TG: if you eat something healthy after eating bullshit then its fine  
TG: thats why im eating baby carrots after finishing this second pint of cherry garcia  
TT: I’m astounded by how you haven’t been diagnosed with a nutritional deficiency yet.  
TT: When’s the last time you ate something with Vitamin C?  
TG:  
TG: monday  
TT: And what might that be?  
TG: fanta  
TG: look i know how it sounds but i only drank it because dirk wanted me to do it with him  
TT: What the fuck.  
TG: hey dont think youre exempt from this  
TG: i caught you hoarding an entire can of pringles  
TT: Not the point.  
TG: definitely the fucking point  
TT: Not when you concoct ridiculous combinations from the junk food cabinet.  
TG: hear me out french fries and ice cream are GOOD you dont understand  
TT: Absolutely not.  
TG: not with that attitude you will  
TT: I’m tempted to cry.  
TG: whoa wait seriously  
TT: No. Of course not.  
TT: I don’t cry.  
TT: And I thought you were attuned to the art of metaphors.  
TG: hey now im still the best of the rest  
TT: You most definitely are. Whatever will assuage your meek and fragile ego.  
TT: Anyway, may I speak with Roxy?  
TG: oh yeah for sure  


[turntechGodhead is idle!]  


TG: HI HI ROSEE ROSE ROSROSI  
TG: 😊😍💕💕😊😁😊😁😊😁😁😁😜💖😘  
TG: hi!!!!!😁😁😁😁  
TT: Hi Roxy!  
TT: How are you?  
TG: i m ok!!!!  
TG: drawin wit dirk  


[turntechGodhead sent an image!]  
[turntechGodhead sent an image!]  


TT: Those are very pretty.  
TG: thank u i know 😜😉😜😉  


[turntechGodhead sent an image!]  


TG: its u  
TT: I love it a lot, Roxy.  
TT: I’m going to put it in my office.  
TG: 💖💖💖💖😍😍😍😍😍💖💖  
TT: Now Roxy, can I ask you to do something?  
TG: hmmmmmmmmmmm  
TG: ok  
TT: Please tell Dave that he is dumb and not healthy for me.  
TG: wats ==> healthy  
TG: cant reed it  


[tentacleTherapist sent a voice message!]  


TG: O OK!  
TG: 😂😂😂  
TG: but y wont u say it  
TT: Because he listens to you more.  
TG: hahaha OKAY! 😜😜😜😜😂😂  
TG: i sed it 2 him 😉😉🎉  
TT: Thank you.  
TG: YAY  
TG: he just grond n sed he wil watch utube cookig videos now  
TT: Wonderful!  
TT: Thank you Roxy, that will be all  
TG: haha ok i <33333 u!!! i will c u latr 😘😘😘 KISSSS  


[turntechGodhead is idle!]  


TG: wow real cool of you rose  
TG: pulling the kiddie card  
TT: You would have done the same.  
TG: yeah yeah whatever  
TG: gonna scroll through some white ladys life story before actually finding a recipe to cook with now  
TT: Have fun.  


“It’s going to get warm for this week of May, so be sure to stay cool and pack on a lot of sunscreen! Join guest dermatologist Flor Ceres today, as she talks about the importance of sunscreen and what do to in case of sunburn. And now, back to Anya Rodriguez with her updates on soulmarks.”

“Thank you, Richard. Actor Cheryl “Cherry” Ramos, known for her role in high-grossing movies  _ Breaking Bars _ and  _ Lucky Chance _ , has recently posted an update following her initial confusion and distress regarding the appearance of her own soulmark. She states that she hasn’t ever heard the words said by her wife of five years, Ava Ramos and that her past few weeks have been full of “introspection on fate, love, and what I choose to do with my life.” She concludes by announcing that her relationship with her wife is as strong as ever, soulmark notwithstanding.”

“Following her announcement came the hashtag #writemyownfate, which has begun trending on several platforms, all featuring couples’ love stories and their earnest statements to stay together no matter what text appears on their bodies. Alongside that…”

TT: Dave.  
TT: Dave (bis).  
TT: Dave (ad infinitum).  
TT: Don’t tell me your phone is on silent. I know you refuse to go longer than an hour without peeking at your phone for your necessary dosage of “meme juice”.  
TT: I dread to think of your shriveled, scrawny husk.  
TT: Well, scrawnier than normal. You’re not unlike a bowling ball carefully positioned on top of a pair of stilts.  
TG: ow what the fuck  
TT: There you are.  
TG: words hurt rose  
TG: ever heard of the pen being mightier than the sword  
TG: okay that was a dumb question youre a lit teacher  
TG: not the cool lit the boring lit that involves digging for the homoeroticism within moby dick but thats not my point  
TG: the point is that the phrase is awkwardly outdated and thanks to my brilliant genius ive come to translate it into something that fellow younguns like yours truly can parse  
TG: my head isnt that circular come the fuck on that hurt  
TG: text messages stab sharper than the knife  
TT: I appreciate the implication that the pen is outdated. As we all know, physical writing is obsolete and left behind to rot with the Boomers.  
TG: okay whens the last time you write actual words with a pen in your hand  
TT: A minute ago.  
TT: I’m grading tests.  
TG: shit right youre a teacher fuck  
TT: Please excuse me a moment.  
TG:  
TG: uh  
TG: you okay over there  
TT: Okay, I’m back. I had to expel some raucous laughter.  
TG: thanks youre the best sister ily i totally wont leave everything in my will to roxy when i die  
TG: anyway you called  
TT: Yes, I did. Where are you right now?  
TG: the ddr crew is at the park  
TG: im keeping an eye on them dw  


[turntechGodhead sent an image!]  


TT: Aw.  
TT: I hate when you call yourselves that.  
TG: hey now dont be jealous dance dance revolution only has one r thats just the way it is  
TG: call me back when you alter english itself  
TT: It’s on the to-do list, right after thinking of a cool acronym for our family that excludes you.  
TT: Watch out. I’ll get you.  
TG: id like to see you try lmao the ddr trio is tight  
TT: We’ll see about that.  
TT: Acronyms aside, were Dirk and Roxy particularly in a hurry to go to the park?  
TT: Any more than their normal jumping about, I mean.  
TG: eh  
TG: not really  
TG: theyre pretty chill today rox is just on the swings and dirks sitting next to me  
TT: So you *weren’t* in a rush.  
TT: Care to explain why I entered the kitchen to find coffee powder over the countertops, permeating the air with its acrid smell?  
TT: At first I assumed it was simply a slip of the hand; it’s easy to spill something and forget about it in the midst of two excited kids.  
TG:  
TG: shit  
TT: But following your recounting of the event, it seems as if you only wanted to singe my nasal cavities.  
TG: i totally forgot about that  
TG: okay it wasnt really “forgot” so to say it was more like a mini explosion happened and after whipping out a new packet the previous one was immediately pushed into the backburner  
TG: like the one in the upper brain attic gathering dirt and well  
TG: forgot  
TG: and yeah true dirk and roxy were practically angels this morning so that definitely isnt a good excuse  
TG: you made it clear that coffee is like your weird arch nemesis that you have a complicated relationship with  
TG: idk how you can detest it but also put powder into your tea but thats none of my business to stick my nose into and also i can feel your hilarity through the screen rn  
TG: its pretty fucking small  
TG: like its about to hit the negatives if it hasnt already and if amusement can be measured in units  
TG: uh fuck  
TG:  
TT:  
TG: sorry  
TT: I forgive you. In turn, I may have exaggerated the situation and am letting you know of my apologies for the slight guilt I may have induced.  
TT: The scent is gone. Thankfully, it only took a few sprays of the air freshener before I was surrounded by a slightly chemical, floral fragrance.  
TT: However, let it be known that the next time I’m woken up by any caffeinated residue that isn’t of my own doing, I will not hesitate to end you.  
TG: aye aye captain  
TG: best sister ever i hear you loud and clear  
TT: Mmhmm.  
TT: I need to get back to work. Get back home safe, will you?  


[turntechGodhead sent an image!]  


TG: will do  
TG: have fun adulting  
TT: I'll try.  
TT: Roxy’s about to fall off the swing.  
TG: SHIT  


ZOMBIEHEART ALBUM OUT NOW  ✔  
@maddiekane

I’ve been in love with my best friend of 10 years and current fiancee, and I don’t remember him saying any words that just appeared on my skin. But honestly? I don’t care! I know who I love, and I’m happy to be here to #writemyownfate  


❤ 1.1K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

tanya | STREAM ZOMBIE HEART  
@erraticchoco

#zombieheart s new album is SO FUCKING COOL AAA its got me having a ton of feelings 😭😭😭❤️ also HELLO?? Ms kane straight up saying fuck fate?? Obv i have my own thoughts but i love how shes handling it all what an inspo  


❤ 14 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Katheratte   
@latteminister

Who thought to call them soulmarks instead of skinscriptions? Like the latter is WAY cuter, and it takes off the pressure of there being some sort of permanent soulmate. Who’s with me?

❤ 4.2K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Katheratte   
@latteminister

replying to  @latteminister

Whoa, okay, I never said that you HAD to call them skinscriptions. You can call them soulmarks if you want!! I’m just putting forth what I think is also a cute name for it all. I’m muting this now, since the comments are getting kind of overwhelming.  


❤ 523 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Nora #coding queen 101   
@moopsloops

UGHHHH if you like your “soulmark” youre NAIVE and STUPID!! So dont go crying if you keep hopping from date to date trying to find “The One” like someone would ever tolerate you. IM scheduling an appointment to tattoo over my “soulmark”, to fall in love the old fashioned way  


❤ 75 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Tripodcast upd8!!  
@SoupBijen

replying to  @moopsloops

thats like… unnecessarily harsh. who hurt you

❤ 21 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Flor | FIC UPDATE  
@AMuderOfCows

replying to  @moopsloops

uh like anyones going to fall in love with you the “old fashioned way” with that kind of attitude  


❤ 42 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Tripodcast upd8!!  
@SoupBijen

replying to  @AMuderOfCows

LMAO YEAH like old fashioned????? Girl were only like 3 months in “old fashioned way” okay boomer

❤ 18 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

CG: CRABDAD IS SO CUTE TODAY.  


[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  
[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  
[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  


CG: LOOK AT HIM.  


[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  
[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  
[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  


CG: OH, WHAT, YOU DON’T LOVE MY SON? FUCK YOU.  


[carcinoGeneticist sent an image!]  


TT: I was having lunch with my dear sister.  
TT: I understand your impatience; I for one, would wait even less for a courteous response if I had a pet. The last image is quite peculiar, though.  
TT: I wasn’t aware pugs could be shaped like middle fingers.  
TT: That aside. Yes, C.D. is very cute.  


[tentacleTherapist sent an image!]  


TT: Fuck you too.  


Quing of Foopball  
@tinsel829

lmao  


❤ 7.7K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Quing of Foopball  
@tinsel829

replying to  @tinsel829

I cant believe i have to say this BUT THIS IS NOT A VAGUE @ ANYBODY!! DONT USE THIS AS A VAGUE TO ANYBODY!!! Its weird as SHIT i just wanted to make a funny meme with my friends but none of you weirdos know how to BEHAVE  


❤ 284 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TT: Dave, could you check in the fridge for a moment?  
TT: I’d like to know if we’re short on any vegetables.  
TT: Before you ask, I’m at the ice cream section. Yes, I’ll get you some chocolate.  
TG: Hi Rose.  
TG: Bro and Roxy is Slepin.  
TG: Turnig off now.  
TT: Dirk? Is that you?  
TT: Dirk, please don’t turn off the phone.  
TT: Dirk.  


[turntechGodhead is offline!]  


TT: Oh my god.  


Read my pinned!  
@Ladiesandbogs

CALLOUT POST FOR NORA AKA @MOOPSLOOPS her meme is okay out of context, but to anyone who isnt in the hackerbabez fandom she is infamous for bullying people over ships AND she also said some rly weird soulmate shit [THREAD]

❤ 2.6K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

checkout my soundcloud   
@turntechgodhead

mornin to my dear 866 followers and the future 3 followers thatre gonna figure out im annoying as shit and slam that unfollow button like its theyre one salvation to e-scape room and also my loving sister who doesnt know shit about music but pretends to to support me nevertheless

❤ 17 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

checkout my soundcloud   
@turntechgodhead

replying to  @turntechgodhead

i got out a new song  
thisll probs be the last one in a while considering im swamped with work etc etc dont tell your entire life story to strangers kids if youre gonna take anything from this account let it be this one piece of advice  


❤ 7 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

checkout my soundcloud   
@turntechgodhead

replying to  @turntechgodhead

that being said i have 3 commission slots open. nothing urgent but an extra twenty bucks goes a long way and all that plus i can do various artstyles so if youve got any inquiries just hmu and ill dm you the price sheet  


❤ 7 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Zombieheart?zombieheart?z  
@pineconnoisseur

replying to  @turntechgodhead

heya sorry if im late to saving a slot or something, but are you up for doing realistic portraits? i love that specific artstyle of yours and id be willing to pay extra!!

❤ 2 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

checkout my soundcloud   
@turntechgodhead

replying to  @pineconnoisseur

oh fuck yeah i can def do that ill send you the prices  


❤ 1 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Cthulore  
@tentatherapist

replying to  @turntechgodhead

How rude of you to preach my musical ineptitude to the crowds. I have a reputation to uphold.  


❤ 3 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Cthulore  
@tentatherapist

My brother has commissions open. In case you didn’t know, he has quite a skill for mimicking various artstyles at humble prices, so it’s not just nepotism talking when I say you won’t regret snagging a slot for yourself.  


checkout my soundcloud @turntechgodhead

that being said i have 3 commission slots open. nothing urgent but an extra twenty bucks goes a long way and all that plus i can do various artstyles so if youve got any inquiries just hmu and ill dm you the price sheet  


❤ 42 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Cthulore  
@tentatherapist

replying to  @tentatherapist

And, since his self-promotion tactics could be better, I’ll be linking examples of his artwork and his paypal below. Any amount of tips would be greatly appreciated from us both.  


❤ 15 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TG: hey ara check this shit out  
TG:

  
AA: dave im sitting right across from you!  
TG: yeah but my throat is dry from talking and were still waiting for water  
TG: also my arm is too much arm for the entire length of the table  
TG: if i tried to turn my phone to you id just slap you in the face and i cant do that to a lovely lady and also my boss  
AA: not really a lady but yes i am your boss 0u0  
AA: if that if your purpose then i appreciate the intent of personal space  
TG: ofc who am i if not courteous and respectful at all times  
TG: i am a goddamn GENTLEMAN look at me opening doors and being emotionally vulnerable and shit  
TG: cant spell chivalry without  
TG: hm  
TG: ivy  
TG: rich  
TG: char  
TG: the coal is implied there  
TG: uh  
TG:  
AA: cry  
TG: FUCK duh  
TG: cant spell chivalry without cry  
TG: anyway where was i  
AA: you were sending me some funny memes  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: thoughts  
AA: they were funny!  
AA: in the time it took for you to find the smaller words within chivalry i have also made my own memes :D  
AA: see here  
AA:

  
  
TG: oh my god  
TG: is that best friend for fucking life  
AA: yes :D  
TG: aradia you epic bastard i think you singlehandedly made all of the other memes i just sent look like diaper wetting babies in comparison  
TG: in other words lmao  
AA: dave: lmao  
the dave in front of me: B|  
TG: asddfa;kdsajfkljskdljafk k;lafio;w;jfiowe  
TG: holy shit  
AA: now youre laughing :D  
TG: ofc i am youre really bringing out the full stops in humor here arent you  
TG: can you hear me wheezing im practically dry coughing out laughs at this point  
TG: my dearest cafe comrade i understand that you have other people to serve and i am by far your biggest priority but i think my windpipe or laughing thorax or whatever is quickly becoming every geography textbooks new definition of desert rn  
AA: you wont have to wait for long  
AA: here they come now  
TG: oh hell yeah finally  


checkout my soundcloud  
@turntechgodhead

guess im jumping onto the bandwagon huh

❤ 9.8K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

checkout my soundcloud  
@turntechgodhead

replying to  @turntechgodhead

holy shit this blew up as the kids say. check out my soundcloud and commissions sheet ig  


❤ 86 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

TT: So, you mentioned lesson plans at your friend’s place, correct?  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: OH, YEAH. RIGHT.  
CG: SORRY, IT’S WAY TOO FUCKING EARLY FOR THIS SHIT.  
TT: It’s 1:13 PM.  
CG:  
CG: YOUR FUCKING POINT?  
TT: Nevermind. I suppose I’m not one to judge when it comes to being a late riser, after all.  
CG: THAT’S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT.  
CG: ANYWAY, I PRESUME YOU WERE ASKING FOR THE ADDRESS?  
TT: Indeed.  
TT: Unless you were looking forward to my impatient calls on Saturday, wondering where you are in a fit of rage.  
TT: I do hope you’re aware I’m not the type of lady to tolerate being stood up.  
CG: LALONDE. BEAR WITH ME THROUGH THIS *INCONCEIVABLE* THOUGHT, ALRIGHT?  
CG: HARD TO KEEP YOUR SNARKY FLAPHOLE SHUT, I KNOW, BUT TRY NOT TO BE SO MIND-BOGGLED BY THIS UNTHINKABLE CONCEPT.  
CG: I THINK *EVERY* SAD FUCK AROUND THAT VALUES EVEN A *SMIDGEN* OF THEIR TIME, SINGLE OR OTHERWISE, DOESN’T LIKE BEING STOOD UP.  
CG: FUCKING WILD! WOW, KARKAT, YOU’RE SO SMART.  
TT: Claim refuted.  
TT: I, for one, know for a fact that my brother loves being stood up at Olive Garden if only for the fact that he can get all the breadsticks to himself, and then some extra for being sad of said standing.  
CG: I  
CG: WOW  
CG: THAT’S REALLY FUCKING SAD.  
TT: This coming from the man who sometimes calls me at 2 am to shittalk old teachers because he was lonely.  
CG: YOU *LIKE* SHITTALKING THEM. DON’T DENY IT.  
TT: Not as much as I like shittalking you.  
TT: You’re funny, Karkat. I think you would make just as good a comedian as you are a teacher.  
TT: Whether the audience is laughing at your humorous language or your harlequin-patterned life, however, is quite a topic of debate.  
TT: And coming from me, that’s really fucking sad.  


[carcinoGeneticist has blocked tentacleTherapist!]  


(g)raveyard babey  
@dellnotcomp

Pfft am I hashtag # internet famous yet

❤ 11K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Calo | Daily Plants  
@dlypoisonplants

replying to  @dellnotcomp

Really loving the implication that Dr. Phil is God in this situation.

❤ 223 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

(g)raveyard babey  
@dellnotcomp

replying to  @dlypoisonplants

Wanna start a cult??  


❤ 12 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

[carcinoGeneticist has unblocked tentacleTherapist!]  


CG: THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR.  
CG: AND  
CG: I SHOULDN'T HAVE TALKED SHIT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER, ESPECIALLY AS I DON’T KNOW HIM YET.  
TT: Yeah, you shouldn’t have.  
TT: And I might have gone a little far.  
CG: A LITTLE??  
TT: Only as much as you had.  
CG: GOD FUCKING  


[carcinoGeneticist is idle!]  


CG: OKAY.  
TT: Okay.  
CG:  
CG: ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?  
TT: Haha.  
TT: Of course.  
TT: Now if you will, the address?  
CG: OH, RIGHT.  


[carcinoGeneticist sent a link!]  


TT: Thank you. I suppose I’ll see you soon, then.  
CG: UNFORTUNATELY.  


KV  
@carcinogenetic

MAMMA MIA IS NOT JUST "A MOVIE". IT IS A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE THAT IS AN ESSENTIAL PART OF MY CHARACTER, PERSONALITY, EMOTIONAL STATE, AND A REASONABLE EXPLANATION WHEN PEOPLE ASK WHY IM QUOTE UNQUOTE "LIKE THIS"

❤ 70 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

Unda  
@UndaNewNeon

When I first met my soulmate I got panicked and threw a small explosive at his chest to get his attention. I would say that I don't recommend that but it worked for me! #probablyabadideatho

❤ 69 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

tanya | STREAM ZOMBIE HEART  
@erraticchoco

Oh my goddd like ever since i was little my mom said shed kill me if i ever got a tattoo and shed double kill me if i got a tramp stamp so like, imagine the fuckin Screaming i did when i got home from work and suddenly discovered that i finally got a soul tattoo

❤ 2.4K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

tanya | STREAM ZOMBIE HEART  
@erraticchoco

replying to  @erraticchoco

AND GUESS WHAT PART OF MY BODY ITS ON 😭😭😭😰

❤ 2.3K 1:41 PM - June 19, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE CODING FOR THIS WAS 41 PAGES LONG OH MY GOD. i owe my life and credits to this work which helped me a lot w the twitter format ==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517134/chapters/53806336  
> also fellow ao3 user @unda made a cameo lmao thats bc i made a tweet cameo in their fic which is also absolutely amazing?? you can read it here as well ==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551601  
> that being said all other @ handles were completely made up so if i accidentally put another irl person into this fic im uh. wow i didnt intend that djfk;lsafdsladk so please spare me mercy  
> OH ALSO karkats dad is named kitt vantas :) thats all for now lmao have a good stay and stay safe dont forget to like comment and subscribe


	7. ROSE & KANAYA: Converse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pov shift halfway through! itll be marked by a horizontal line. have fun

“Alright! Here we fucking are. I’d say to make yourself at home, but seeing as it isn’t mine- well, go fuck yourself.” Karkat pushes the door open, impatiently ushering you in like a true gentleman should. 

“I really must thank you for your generosity,” you jest. “It is with shame that I admit I simply can’t remember the last time I was adequately told to go fuck myself, much less a friendly ‘eat shit’ between friends.” Karkat scoffs at your retort, mumbling something about _polite misintentions_ and your last pesterlog. It’s fun throwing him off course. 

You toe your shoes off, making sure to line them up against the wall. You’re in a stranger’s home, after all, and seeing someone else’s clothing strewn haphazardly across the hallway hardly makes for a good impression. 

Speaking of clothing: wow. As Karkat leads you through the home while giving you a brief and vulgar tutorial of the layout, you dawdle a fair distance behind, taking in your surroundings. Multiple racks are laid out against the walls, rolls of vivid cloth piled upon them. The place is tidy enough; if it weren’t for the spectrum of quilts and outfits-in-progress, the room would seem almost aggressively minimalist in design. However, the sharp, clean edges of the furniture are more than made up for with the swathes of cloth draped over them and hung on the walls in long, colorful lines. Every five footsteps is met with a hanger or mannequin, each holding an outfit that is far from finished, adorned with sticky notes that you assume hold measurements.

You lean a bit closer.

Send To Porrim Since Shes So Fucking Keen To Do Every Sleeve That Ever Exists

Backburner

Die Before This Is Finished

Experiment Number Fuck

Okay, so maybe more than just measurements. 

Either way. You’re far from an expert when it comes to fashion, but Karkat’s friend really is someone to behold when it comes to jaw-dropping designs. If anything, each experimental outfit that’s mottled together from eyesore swatches is accompanied by three other ensembles that are a masterpiece on their own.

“Rose? Hell _ooo_?” Karkat pops his head back into the hallway. “Are you done sticking your nose into every crevice like its got its own significant gravitational force to your face, or what?” Whoops.

“It’s an unfamiliar place, Karkat. You can’t possibly fault me for getting a hold of my surroundings.”  
“No shit, Lalonde. That’s why I was oh so _courteous_ enough to walk ahead of you, clear the table of any stray threads and pins, boil some water for my duly needed caffeine and your ridiculous leaf water, _and_ set up my notes before coming back to you.” Damn. Were you really distracted for that long? It only seemed like a few minutes.

Karkat taps his foot, leveling you with a judgemental look. “Don’t get me wrong, I wholeheartedly appreciate your company and your time. God knows what the fuck I would’ve been doing right now if it weren’t for this setup pushing me to actually gather my shit together like a half-squashed dung beetle.” He pauses. “Probably watching more Netflix alone, actually,” he mutters under his breath, as if you couldn’t hear him five feet away.

Best to spare him from the awkward train of thought he was bound to go down. “No need to dig that hole of yours any further. I’m done with my snooping around.” 

“Oh! Great,” he stands up straight, beckoning you over to the next room. “Now, if you will, I’d like to get down to business on what we initially came here to do.”

All things considered, both your lesson plans went over quite well, with minor blips here and there. There’s always the constant underlying worry that whatever you say will pass right over your students’ heads in favor of googling the answers online, but you can take some comfort (and pride) in the knowledge that you two are respectable teachers.

You would know, from hearing passing gossip in the hallways. Not that you purposefully eavesdrop, of course. 

Freshmen are just loud as hell.

One topic of conversation leads to another, and when the brunt of your workload is shifted off your shoulders, you’re taking sips of your own respective drinks, sharing recent stories of your students.

Karkat taps the table, redirecting your attention. “Okay, but at least _your_ students have some modicum of respect. Might I remind you that I teach ninth and twelfth graders? The freshmen are chock fucking full with energy- the excitable bastards are constantly pushing my buttons to see how ‘fun’ they can make out their idealized highschool musical experience to be, and seniors have gone past the point of caring about shit. They’re all burnt out and as exhausted as the _dead._ I feel guilty _enough_ just giving them shit to study for.” He pauses to take a sip. “And sure, the ones in the middle aren’t your most pristine and studious workers, but they have enough awareness to be polite at least _half_ of the time.” 

You snort. What a _lie._

“I think you may be taking your students for granted, Mr. Vantas. Ever since last Thursday I had a sophomore visit me during lunch to ‘grill me on how the hell I got my eyeliner that clean’, to my now desensitized surprise. I didn’t have much to tell her, but now I suppose I’m quite tempted to redirect her towards _you_ for reference. I’ll have you see how it’s like.”

“Is that a threat?”

“What, is this the one thing you’re not willing to teach?”

“It’s not that I’m not willing to teach it,” he scoffs. “You could say that my knowledge on cosmetology wasn’t done unassisted. I can’t think of a single reason why _I_ would be the reigning model.”

“That’s because _I_ taught you everything you knew.”

Uh. That's a new voice.

From the way Karkat sighs in resignment, you probably can’t say the same for him.

“I hope you weren’t that quick to forget. Also, hi Karkat. Et al.”

You turn around in your chair and _oh. Wow. What._

You were obviously expecting someone fashionable from your surroundings, but never have you ever anticipated the _prettiest_ woman you have ever seen in your entire life. 

She stands tall, poised, with yellow jeans and a bright green blouse draping loosely over her arms. Fluffy bunny slippers pad against the floor as she walks towards you, and. Well.

You are looking politely.

Props to the bunny slippers. There’s nothing stopping someone from looking fashionable while also being comfortable at home.

Though, you doubt there’s any way she _couldn’t_ not look good.

“Hello. I’m Kanaya. The one whose residence you seem to be sitting in, with dubious permission.” Kanaya ruffles Karkat’s hair, who groans in distaste.

“I _distinctly_ remember you telling me you ‘didn’t mind a bit as long as they don’t shit on the couch,’ to put so generously. Or accurately. Whatever.” Karkat gestures between you two. “Kanaya. This is Rose Lalonde, the only other coworker who I’m capable of tolerating for longer than ten-minute increments without bursting a blood vessel. Rose, Kanaya already introduced herself. She’s my oldest friend and I hate her from the bottom of my heart.”

“No you don’t,” Kanaya dismisses. She pulls up a chair, sitting across from you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important. I was just thirsty, and I happened to come across a wonderful opportunity to embarrass my dear friend.”

“Hold the _fuck_ up, Maryam, you’re going to _what-”_

“Makeup, right? There’s a story behind that.” 

“From the _fucking_ bottom! Of _my_ heart! I hate you. Rose, don’t listen to her. I’m begging.” Karkat dramatically facepalms, leaning back against his chair. Kanaya smiles politely, and you glimpse a playful spark in her eyes.

She’s _cute._ You’ve love to ask her out sometime-

It hits you like a hammer in the sternum.

What are the chances that your co-worker’s good friend is a gorgeous woman, with a captivating sense of humor and even more so sense of style? What are the chances that she comes downstairs for a drink, managing to rope your attention along the way?

It seems almost perfectly scripted, so to say. Written in the stars.

Your arm itches.

You want to bring up the still-simmering pot of sharp, viscous words in your gut. To question your freedom in the world once again, and find a way to break it to its core. Perhaps speaking it out of thin air will be obtrusive enough to scare her- Kanaya- away, and you can relish in the small victory over ruining things for yourself once again. 

Ruining it, yes, but at least you know it was by your own hand. 

Yet, Aradia’s words sit on the other side of your heart, an antacid to the turmoil in your gut. 

_Certain set paths don’t mean that there aren’t any choices you can make that will alter you life. It doesn’t mean that whatever you are destined for is bad._

Compose yourself. You’re still in a (pretty) stranger’s house, after all. You can _not_ make things crash and burn. For now.

Thankfully, Karkat’s still whining by the time you reenter the present moment. You hold your breath, ensuring that your heartbeat won’t be heard when you finally speak.

“Interesting. Do go on, Kanaya. I’m intrigued.” 

* * *

When Karkat asked if he could bring a coworker over to go through some lesson plans, you expected a brief, but polite interaction before resuming your work and moving on with your life.

You didn’t expect to come across a golden opportunity to gush about the details of yours and Karkat’s shared experiences. (It might have been a telling detail, that you were excited to talk to someone that _wasn’t_ Karkat or your relatives. You’re a little lonely.)

You certainly never expected to come across a woman who seemed to suspend time just enough for you to hold a brief, near imperceptible, yet lasting glance with.

Simply put, Rose Lalonde is beautiful. Her hair is carefully styled, all in place save for a curl that you want to push aside in a gentle caress. The slight up quirk of her lips (are those _piercings?_ ) is like a clutch to your heart, and her voice the fastening lock. Oh god, those _are_ piercings. Fuck. Fuck.

Behind, her blazer hangs loosely off the chair, and for a moment you imagine adjusting it, helping her slide it on before taking her hands in yours. Rose leans forward on the counter, head resting on her hands as she raises an eyebrow. Encouragement? Curiosity?

Her eyes are striking. 

Are you staring? You are. 

The natural need to blink snaps you out of your stupor.

What are you _doing?_ You’re supposed to be answering her, not gaping like a fish. Idiot. 

In your defense, you just wanted a glass of water. Getting this far was a concept that was so distant from your vision it slapped you upside the head.

“Well,” you begin, “back when we were still children and my skills weren’t as clean, Karkat was gracious enough to let me use him as a palette, so to say.” You smile, settling into the memory. “It was casual, at first. We would chat and discuss whatever topics happened to pop up while I did a few looks on him. It was when he went to an ice cream date in like, what-” you shoot a glance at Karkat, who’s intently pinning you to your chair with daggers in his eyes. He discreetly mouths out a threat.

 _Kanaya. For my own gracious need of my professional dignity, please don’t embarrass me in front of my coworker._

As if his expression wasn’t telling enough on its own.

You only smile. 

“Seventh grade, I believe? He wanted to impress a friend, and asked to ‘put some powdery shit on me’. It- well, it worked.”

You look off to the side, thinking about the mascara and eyeliner you added on with the help of a ruler. It wasn’t too bad, at the time. “Marginally.” You add on.

“It seemed to some sort of open door, as he shortly joined me in on practicing on ourselves. Although if I were so inclined to bring out a photo album, I doubt he improved much.”

“Hey! I improved _plenty,_ fuck you very much.” Rose laughs, and it feels like she pulled aside the curtains to your heart and you saw the light.

“Give me some goddamn credit.” Karkat places both palms on the table, rolling his eyes. “Day by day I’m run ragged by maddening teens at the _rudest_ stage of their lives. I’ll take my small victories where I can get them.”

“Well, you don’t look half bad,” Rose agrees. “But I doubt your credibility where said rude children lie. You don’t seem the type to have simmered down a _bit_ since high school.”

“Rose is right,” you jump in. “If anything, your fuse and age are inversely proportional.”

“Don’t forget the vocabulary. He has quite the prism.”

Karkat sputters, trying to rub his face off with his bare hands before collapsing facedown in defeat. You turn towards him, theatrically whispering to Rose.

“Karkat once called me, and I quote, a ‘prime example as to why tall people have their heads up their own asses instead of hitting them on doorframes, as one rightly should whenever they pick low-hanging fruit.’”

“Was that the worst he’s ever called you?” She stage-whispers back. “If I remember correctly, he once said I was his closest ally in this desolate worldly pit, but he would do a flip off the edge of the world and risk dying in hyperspace if I criticized him on his gratuitous use of commas again. It was rather professional.” Karkat lets out a muffled protest, and Rose snickers in turn.

“The edge of the world, you say? Who’s going to break the news to this poor boy?”

“ _Ooh._ Best to let him live his ignorant bliss. I don’t dare risk being anywhere around Karkat when _that_ fuse blows.”

You wave a hand, grinning. Talking with Rose feels like a game with winning just out of arm’s reach. “Give him some credit. You just said he was professional.”

“That may be true, but I never attributed that fact to his unique lexicon. His eyeliner and personality make up for what else he lacks.”

“Like height.”

“Like height!”

Karkat scoffs, “Oh, _grow up!_ You’re no taller than I am, Lalonde, don’t go acting all high and mighty now.”

“Your comment is taken into consideration,” Rose pauses. “No.”

A burst of laughter escapes from you before you can stop it, clapping your hands over your mouth. Rose smiles back at you, and you fluster under her gaze. There’s a lot going on with you right now.

“What outrageous sin did I commit to have my humble being slandered like this?” Karkat sits up, only to slump over in irritation again. “Somewhere along the road of my miserable life did I, by any chance, check off the hidden box that said ‘be an insult merry-go-round fucking free for all’?? I’m just making myself known, you cheeky fucks!” Karkat grabs his glass of water, somehow managing to drink water _angrily_ before taking another deep breath. “You sure have some nerve, coming into _my_ house-

“This is my house.”

“... _My_ house, only to team up and make fun of me for something that I can’t even control.”

“If you drank your milk you’d be taller,” you interrupt. Karkat pouts.

“I’m taking away your title as best friend. Rose, you’ve been promoted.”

“Well, you rapidly jumped to that alternative. Were there any other running contestants, or was I the only one?”

“You know what, fuck you. I don’t need any friends. I’m fine just where I am on my fucking lonesome, living my days without lesbians who like to make my life difficult. Crabdad would _never_ treat me like this.” He brandishes both middle fingers, making sure you get a hefty sight of them both. How dramatic. 

“Now, if you two can stop making my life any more difficult than it has to be, I’ll just be here doing my mediocre, sufficient makeup by _myself_ . And, really, it’s not like its a _huge_ deal. It’s two little lines of paint to draw attention away from the horrid bags under my eyes, for fuck’s sake. Besides, the concept of quote unquote ‘traditional masculinity’ is dead, and-” Okay, this might be going on a while.

“You should see him on a date,” you lean over, whispering.

Rose raises her eyebrows. “Oh? Do tell.”

“-allowed to do- wait _WHAT_ ?! Kanaya, _no_ , _don’t_ fucking _tell-”_

You casually wave your hand around. “It’s like he’s getting ready to meet his soulmate.”

Wait.

Oh God.

_Fuck._

Your grin falls off your face as effortlessly as the conversation immediately halts.

_Stupid._

Why did you even say that? Talking without a filter, most likely. Pure idiocy and ignorance for the current events, amplified by the need to throw banter without a second thought even likelier. 

You can’t even call it a simple accident. You remember your time starring in the mirror, consulting Karkat over a month ago. Getting soulmarks may still be recent to some of the populus, but it’s far from new to you.

The same could be said for Karkat, and from the way Rose sits up straight and looks pointedly at the wall, you suspect she may be caught up in similar complications. It’s a foolish move, really, forgetting that all of your lives were irreversibly changed and bringing it up in the form of a sour joke.

You messed it all up again.

Maybe- maybe you should leave, say that this was nice but they have lesson plans to get back to, a farewell to bid-

“Fuck. _Fuck._ I’m not going to stand for a _second_ longer of this silence. This is so goddamn painful. Leave it to Karkat to break the tension and get all of the awkward attention on himself, I _guess_.” Karkat stands up, making a bravado of shaking himself off. You hope he can see your gratitude falling off you in waves. “Like, there’s no denying it, unless we’ve all dug a hole under a rock and shut ourselves off from any human contact and current events for- for like, the past month? Weeks? I don’t care, time is a faux anyway- the point is, shit’s fucked.”

“Fucked is an understatement.” Rose interjects. She’s tracing the marbled pattern on your countertop.

“Fine,” Karkat groans, “Shit is fucked _so hard_ the entire world got labeled as explicit on the intergalactic news of hot shit falling ass backwards onto hideous objects on which I refuse to elaborate upon, yet are a blight upon everyone’s existence just the same. How’s that for you? No, don’t answer that- I don’t care, and I’m already off track as is.” He waves his tangent away, taking a deep breath that pauses- holds- then turns into a tired sigh.

“I don’t know about you two, but I don’t want to tiptoe around the ass of the giant comatose elephant in the room. I suppose talking about it isn’t any better than sniffing each other’s asses, but I’m frus- I just want to get it out in the air, you know?” He scratches the back of his neck, looking at you both. “Just say it, so we know where we stand and we can move on to _less_ painful topics, if that’s a feat that can ever be managed.”

You hate to admit it, but he’s _right._ Trying to waltz around this topic (since you oh-so-graciously brought it up) only seems to prolong an inevitable moment. It’s not like the tattoos are going away anytime soon. Or that your words are going to slide off anytime, either.

Might as well go first; you brought it up.

“I’ve gotten one. I-” Well.

How do you bring up a decade of emotion and past _Vriska_ shenanigans into a single statement? It needs to be vague, for Rose; from her reaction, you doubt insinuating anything too attached would lead to any amendments towards your first impression. Yet at the same time, it should placating enough for Karkat. You told him you’re _fine,_ and it’ll continue that way.

“My feelings surrounding it are complicated, but I believe it’s suffice to say I won’t be wearing any crop tops for the time being.” There.

Rose and Karkat exchange a look that you can’t quite place. Did you miss out on something? (Stop it. It shouldn’t be business for you to pry in, anyway.)

Rose hesitantly tugs down the cuff of her shirt, revealing a fitting arm sleeve. Oh.

 _Oh._

Distantly, your mind drifts to your store, and the recent influx of requests for such similar garters. 

“I hold no interest for mine,” she states, apathetic. She looks you dead in the eye. Gauging your reaction? A thought? A dare?

Briefly, you nod (you have no idea how she took it as), and Rose drops her gaze for just a moment before settling them upon Karkat. 

It’s your turn to share a meaningful glance with Karkat. He was there for you, and you know that if he did have one, he’d tell you in return. 

But he doesn’t. Yet? You hope so.

It would be brutal, for a universe to turn its gaze away from you and you alone. At this point, there’s no guarantee of a say-all be-all, but to try and find love and meaning where it had been unexpectedly thrust upon everyone else sounds like Karkat’s specially made hell. 

You hope he finds someone. Karkat has so much love to give.

Now, he looks away. Clutches at the end of his sweater, muttering under his breath. You- you should give him some space. Should you?

Rose’s gaze turns patient, and she squints with worry. “Karkat?” 

“No,” he blurts, grimacing. “I mean, I don’t have one. Yet? Who am I fucking kidding, I’m probably well past the due date for this kind of shit anyway.” 

He crosses his arms, folding himself in. “Wow, everyone, look at Karkat, left out once again on the entire group thing. Except the group thing is literally intertwined with fate or souls or how my footsteps align with the asscrack of the sidewalk or some shit, and I’m just here like a little kicked puppy left on the side of the road because it’s an ugly runt and _who wants a pug anyway_ , _right?_ ”

Okay, now he’s just talking about Crabdad. That still doesn’t stop you from stepping forward and encasing him in a hug, though. You get the feeling he needs it. Karkat grabs your arm, leaning in. 

“Sorry, Lalonde.” He mutters. “I’m an ass, acting like your wish is my fucking curse. If I could turn the tables, I swear I would in an instant.”

“No need. I don’t expect my stance on the subject matter to be a popular one.” Rose is tapping her nails on the glass now, looking on with a hint of a smile at your now casual embrace. It looks like she’s remembering something familiar. “If it’s of any use, a friend gave me some dear advice I’ve been thinking on for a while now. Maybe certain paths are set for us, but they’re hardly in stone. Choices can, and will still stand to change our lives as they are.”

That’s… wise, you think. You probably don’t have the mental energy to delve into it right now. Karkat huffs, pushing you away. 

“I didn’t mean to drop such a heavy topic of conversation,” you swear. 

"Are you sure? _I_ personally thought that this was your attempt to drive your unexpected visitors away from your handiwork." She has to be joking. She is, isn't she.

"Well, now that you mention it, maybe."

"Maybe," Rose smirks. She _is_ joking. Okay, that’s a relief. Just keep it up. Maybe your still burning embarrassment will be tamped down by your eventual dry humor.

"Maybe so."

"And _MAYBE_ I'm feeling just a _tad_ left out here, with a sore ass and even sorer eyes, you pompous shitasses. If you can save the weird humor for another day, I'd appreciate it, fuck you very much."

"Sounds like someone's jealous," Rose coos. You echo her, because it's fun to lightly bully Karkat.

You have stuff to do, though. A glance at the clock reminds you of an impending deadline. “As much as I’d like to continue this, Karkat’s right. I have to return to my own duties, and I’ll leave you to resume yours.”

“ _Thank_ you, Kanaya.” Karkat places his glass in the sink. “I feel like we’re almost done with the chucklefuck worksheet bullshit anyway, so we’ll be out of your hair soon. Thanks for having us by.”

“Anytime, with a fee.”

“I- what? I already bought you ice cream! Is my friendship not fucking enough?”

“It’s just about,” you smile, _finally_ getting your damn glass of water and heading back upstairs. 

Shit. You didn’t say bye to Rose.

Is it too late to turn back? It would only be polite, but you run the risk of looking a fool just to bid a pleasant farewell. You’re going to keep ruminating on this until midnight, aren’t you? 

“Hey.” _Rose._ Your foot catches on the stairs.

“Um.”

“Leaving without a personal farewell? Quite rude, don’t you think.” _Shit._

She smiles at what could only be the most panicked look you’ve had as of date, waving your worries aside. “I’m joking, though I’m not averse to a ‘see you soon’. Thank you for having us by, if only to sit around your table and take some of your coffee. It was charming meeting you, Kanaya. I hope to keep in touch.” 

She hopes to keep in touch.

_Rose Lalonde wants to keep in touch._

“GrimAuxiliatrix. My handle, I mean,” You blurt. “If you’re really so insistent to know,” you add on, to try and maintain what callous playfulness you have left. If that’s a thing, and if it’s something Rose finds amusing. If you haven’t shown yourself to be an absolute mess, already. 

Rose smiles again, and leaves without a word. 

You trip again going up the stairs.

-

TT: Good evening. Is this the one contact of Kanaya Maryam?  
GA: Depends  
GA: Whos Asking  
TT: Forgotten me already? I dread to have made such an unremarkable first impression.  
GA: Oh  
GA: Its You  
TT: Plain old me.  
GA: Thats Quite Funny  
GA: From All Of The First Meetings Ive Had Id Have To Say Ours Was Quite Memorable  
GA: However The Amount Of Attribution Of That By My Own Foolishness Is Yet To Be Determined  
TT: Details to be brushed under the rug, I’m sure.  
GA: What Details  
GA: ;\  
TT: Exactly.  
GA: Im Glad We Are On The Same Page Then  
GA:  
TT:  
GA: So  
GA: In A Far From Abrupt Change Of Topic  
TT: Oh? Whatever could have caused this smooth transition.  
GA: May I Inquire About Your Pastimes  
GA: Im Sure Youve Already Gotten Quite The Gander Of Mine  
TT: Well, this isn’t a one way street. There’s always two sides to the glory hole.  
GA: Uh  
TT: My brother said that.  
GA: Ignoring What Im Sure Is Something For Philosophers And Psychologists To Bond Over About  
GA: Are You Really Playing Hard To Get  
GA: ?  
TT: I’m a busy and mysterious woman. I don’t just talk and split; imagine the leverage.  
TT: Scandalous.  
GA: Well I Guess Thats A Point That Would Similarly Make Me A Hypocrite If I Were To Disagree  
GA: But You Already Know Karkat And I Were Childhood Friends So I Suppose The Glory Hole Of Information Has Been There All Along  
GA: I Guess What Im Saying Is  
GA: If You Would Like To  
GA: And Only As Much As You Would Like To Say  
GA: Tell Me About Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late-ish update! i had fun with this one but i also struggled a lot bc im not as used to writing rosemary dynamics as i am with davekat but by god i am finishing this fic and i am making it a full 50% rosemary so theres THAT ha jfsakdfsalfja anyway if theres any typos or confusion or anything lmk and ill do what i can! also on that note re: the previous chapter its been brought to my attention that sometimes the images in the format arent working? if youve ever experienced that please tell me which part of the fic it is so i can try to fuck with the coding to fix it and ill also try to put in an image id for each meme but its a Bit slow going bc online classes and all but i also promise ill get that done eventually
> 
> that aside comments give me life please and thank you dont forget to like comment and subscribe and i hope you all have a good day c[]


	8. KARKAT: GET INTO IMPROMPTU BABYSITTING.

Going on walks with Crabdad is easily the best highlight of your day. It could very well be the best highlight of your year, but you’re not going to hurt your students like that. Despite the troublesome moments that have your head throbbing like the description of one’s length in a particularly subpar erotica, you enjoy your classes. And hopefully, they enjoy your efforts to teach them as well. 

Hopefully. 

Try as you might, teenagers are brutal little things, and being favored under all of their scrutinizing and bored gazes is about as rare as winning the lottery twicefold. The stresses associated with either of the subjects brings you back to where you are right now: running away from your responsibilities and carrying your little baby boy on the way to the park.

You professionally ignore the passersby’s weirded out glances, as always. Would you look at _that_ , a tiny grown man carrying an even tinier dog in his arms, like he can’t even walk on his own. Well, fuck them for being so ignorant to the plight of pugs.

You’ve done your extensive research, of course. Just because they don’t have the perfect structure for long term exercise doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy some fresh air. And if that means carrying Crabdad to the park, whipping out a book for 50 minutes while he plays to his leisure, and then carrying him all the way back, well. You think you can call yourself a responsible parent.

The park isn’t as populated as it usually is today, which is just as much a relief to you as it is a lonely disappointment.

Wow. Look at you, craving social interaction and contact like a normal fucking human being! And yet, here you are, being dysfunctional enough to push away any opportunity of it like it’s a plate of particularly slimy baby food.

Make up your _mind,_ will you? (You won’t).

You sigh. CD wiggles his way out of your arms and you sit your tired ass down on your go-to bench, taking in your surroundings. 

It’s...peaceful. Nothing particularly special, as always: the children’s playground looks like it’s _dripping_ with grime, the grass is about as green as your face is acne-free (enough, yet the dead brown spots are just as noticeable), and the cars driving by aren’t exactly white noise. But, well. It’s better than sitting alone on your couch with the silence pushing in.

Here, at least, you feel like you’re a part of things.

Jesus, is CD sniffing some other dog’s shit? God dammit, you have _one_ positive experience and you’re gruelly reminded that disgustingly incompetent assholes exist that think leaving their _shit_ around and out in the open is a perfectly acceptable thing to do because _someone_ else is going to pick it up at the end. There should be some sort of Responsible Dog Owner card of some sort, so you can call them out on their bullshit and make sure they’re not playing guardian for a living feeling animal for shits and giggles. 

You stand up with a grunt, peering closer. Besides, children _play_ here. It would take a fucking idiot to not notice that, with swings included. You wince in sympathy for the poor parents who have to deal with whatever parasites their kids contract because one chucklefuck can’t find the energy to just hold their breath and-

Oh. It’s a stick. 

Nevermind. Your point still stands, though.

You scratch CD behind the ears. “You smart bastard. Look at what you found! Of course you wouldn’t be found sniffing a pile of shit, would you? You’re too smart for that. I love you so much.” You coo, taking the stick and tossing it. He preens under your praise before trotting off, and you go back to your bench.

Yeah, you’re a good dad. 

Fuck, don’t say _dad._ That’s weird. Your dad is a good dad. You’re just a slightly obsessive dog owner trying to fill the void in his life. 

That’s pretty pathetic, now that you’re thinking about it. Don’t you have anything better to do? 

CD trots over happier than you’ll probably ever be, and you give him a treat (the smallest piece of beef jerky- pugs are already extremely unhealthy as is, and you’re not letting him die on you anytime soon) before letting him rest. Yeah, not really. 

Just you and your dog. Oh, and that kid petting him.

_Wait._

You whip your head around. “The fuck are you doing here?!”

Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t swear around a stranger’s kid.

He doesn’t seem shocked or overly entertained by your outrageous display of informality, though, so maybe that’s a good thing. Or not. You forgot what age you were allowed to swear. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to go all willy nilly though, you fucking idiot. This kid _cannot_ be older than 8.

“Like, seriously. How old are you? Where’s your guardian?” You question him, and he just keeps scratching CD under the chin like any normal day.

“Oh, right. Stranger danger,” you mutter. You wouldn’t tell your age to some weirdo adult, either. “You don’t have to answer how old you are, I’m sorry about that. It’s just- kind of weird? You can keep petting CD as long as you’re gentle, I don’t give a shit-” - _fuck-_ “-I mean, I don’t care. But I still don’t know where you came from. Can I at _least_ be assured you have someone to go back to?”

The kid stops petting CD and sits back, frowning, and dread settles in. Fuck. You sit back farther on the bench, looking off on the small patch of trampled grass. Did you say something insensitive? Of course you did, you assheaded idiot, how fucking pathetic are you to just _ask_ anyone- a little kid, no less- about their family history? God, you’re a horrible human being-

-A clap mashes its way through your spiral into self-deprecation and defecation, and you look up to see the boy pointing to his eyes straight on with his first two fingers, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Hm. The gesture in itself is pretty clear, but there’s something else about it that looks familiar.

You mom pops into your head, doing the same movement before giving you an overexaggerated kiss on the forehead.

Oh, goddamnit, he’s signing ‘Look at me’. Of course! You’re almost embarrassed it took you so long to remember, especially after Mew would do it to you so often back in highschool. She would give your grimy face a look-over before swiping some near invisible crumbs off your mouth, and then squeezing your cheeks so hard they still hurt when you arrived at school.

Well, in retrospect, you haven’t video chatted either of your parents recently. Guilt pangs at the walls of your heart, ever so slightly. It’s not like you’ve been too busy to talk to them; you make it a duty to text your dad on the bare goings-on of your life every Saturday, but when was the last time you talked to them?

When was the last time you sat down with a coffee and the intent to make an indent on the couch, press the button for a video call, and… you don’t know.

Ask them how their garden is going. Endure their teasing on how you couldn’t keep a bean alive to save yourself. Whatever the fuck.

It’s jarring. You used to talk to them from the second you walked back into your home until you shouted your goodnights through the bedroom door, and now the most you’ve told your dad this month was how Crabdad was doing.

You haven’t been the best son, have you? Fuck. You should give them a call soon.

Well, that’s for the future. Right now, you’re staring blankly off into the horizon while some poor kid is bearing witness to your self-flagellation.

“Sorry. I was being dumb,” You say, signing along. “My name’s Karkat, what’s yours?” Almost immediately, his face lights up in a smile. Against your will, you find yourself smiling too.

“My name is Dirk. I’m six. It’s cool that we can talk together. Your name is kind of weird though and your dog is ugly,” he signs.

Excuse you? Crabdad is the _pinnacle_ of handsome. Fuck that.

You don’t say that, though. It’s been a while since you were around anyone younger than 15, but you feel like telling someone off in the first few sentences of conversation isn’t exactly the best way to make an impression. Besides, it’s not as effective when you still can’t muster the muscle to force your own smile off your face. 

What can you say? After a whole week of looking back at a sea of deadpan teenagers, another kid’s joy can be a little bit infectious. You sigh. “It’s nice to meet you too, Dirk.” You’re still pretty fucking offended, though.

“And for your information, Karkat is just as much of a normal name as CD is a normal smelling dog.”

“Not very normal, then.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your head where the rare specimen known as common sense may lie, is a voice that says you should probably step back and be a good role model for the time being. Again, six years old.

However. 

“Ever heard of respect?”

Dirk gives a single nod, raising his eyebrow in inquiry. You raise one back. He raises his other one higher.

“How about you try practicing it?”

Dirk makes an unnecessarily dramatic show of thinking over your question, leaning back into the grass and pouting as if you just asked him to build a fucking building from scratch. He leans back over towards you with the smuggest little smirk on his round cheeky face, brings up his hand with his ring and pinky finger closed to his palm, then taps his first two fingers to his thumb. 

_“No,”_ he signs. You just barely hold back from showing him your _favorite_ sign in return. 

Come on. Don’t do that. You’re a mature, responsible, adult whose dealt with plenty of children in his career-

Is Dirk sticking his tongue out at you? That little _fucker._

Jesus. Deep breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Exhale.

There’s no winning with little kids. Especially since you remember being a spoiled little brat yourself, and your parents having the loving patience to simply sigh and move on. So you do, and nod your reluctant truce to Dirk. 

He’s lucky his little baby smile waves off the rest of your frustration, otherwise you might have just had to pack up CD and go. 

That’s a lie. Like you would just leave him here. 

Your disgustingly squishy resolve is your most repulsive trait, by far.

Dirk continues lightly petting your dog, baby boy to baby boy (do six-year-olds count as babies?). He seems to be doing no harm, so you take out your phone and check up on your emails. Because unsu-fucking-prisingly, your students can’t go a fucking day without you.

_From: Tirona Kasund  
_ _Subject: Fastest way to get useless homework done_

_From: Wanshi Adyata  
_ _Subject: books that i want to share with u_

...Uh huh. Those can wait.

_From: Mallek Adalov  
_ _Subject: shit’s hard_

_From: Daraya Jonjet  
_ _Subject: help_

Probably shit concerning homework problems. You click through them both hoping that they at least _tried_ to do the problems first, before sighing with relief.

The effort is… getting there. At least the seniors are trying. You file those ones aside to get back to at home.

_From: Tyzias Entykk  
_ _Subject: keyboard is fucked up  
_ _Attachment: ya_english_essay.pdf_

Concerning. You click the email.

_Dear Mmmmr. Vantas,_

_mmmmy commmmputer keys are broken. sorry. that’s wwwwhy my essay has a crap ton of fucking typos. also i’mmmm not doing so good because nobody else is pulling their wwwweight in a group project in another dammmmn class and i also kind of fell into a pit of personal research and forgot other stuff existed for a bit_

_barely an excuse i know but if you could give mmmme an extension on the poemmmm thing for monday it wwwwould be mmmmassively appreciated and all._

_hope the email receives you wwwwell,_

_t_

This email does, in fact, receive you as well as you can be, considering the never-ending shithole of circumstances and emotions that continue to swirl around in your veins. You sigh.

You try to be impartial. Try, being the key word here.

Despite it all, you and Rose both know that there are _some_ favorite students in each of your classes. In turn, you cut the slack knowing that not every kid’s personal life is finely tuned to accommodate for education and education alone. Does it make you wonder if you’re a bad teacher? Occasionally. But you do know that you’re many students’ favorite, and with that you let some deadlines slide with a smug sense of pride.

_Tyzias,_

_The email received me; take that however you decide. I’ll spare you the details of my life._

_Considering the fucked-upness of-_

Shit. Right, you can’t swear.

_Considering the multitude of typos in your essay, I understand that certain technologies may not be in optimal shape, and will give leeway in recognizing repairs and time etc etc. That, and I would rather wait three more days than have to burn my eyeballs looking at that many m’s in a row ever again. I’ll give you until Friday. If any other obstructions sans shitting around-_

Ugh. Fuck.

_-sans goofing off at whatever hangout spots teenagers like to go to happen to come up, feel free to let me know. Keep in mind, there’s still a schedule here._

Yeah, you won’t be bothered to make that sound any more formal than it has to be. They’ll get the gist. You hit send, and turn to check up on-

“Dirk!”

You look up to see some dude who is absolutely fucking _sprinting_ over to you two. Holy shit, this guy is fast. Dirk stands up, brushing himself off before walking the few steps forward into his guardian’s arms. 

Huh. Just in time, then. 

Dirk gets picked up and spun around, giggling all while his- dad? Brother?- rapidly mutters a thick string of sentences laced with worry. Uh.

This feels like an awkwardly personal moment to pay witness to. Hell, you met Dirk no more than ten minutes ago and now you’re watching him sign back to the dude patting him over, asking and double-checking if he got hurt.

Haha, wow, look at that fucking stick by the leg of your bench. You pick it up, mentally playing Mamma Mia in your head to block out a conversation you feel creepy for eavesdropping in all the while. The stick is pretty smooth, now that you’re fully examining it. The previously bored parkgoer probably grated it against the side of the bench for the sole purpose of chipping all the bark and dirt off. 

At the very least, that’s what you would have done. Why else would someone take any amount of time to pick at it otherwise? You snap the stick in half, and wave the shorter end in front of Crabdad’s face. He perks up, little curly tail wagging around in excitement, and you throw it a couple feet off. He trots off like a good boy. 

Your very best adorable _perfect_ little baby fluffy fat stinky _wonderful_ little boy, who you trained to fetch sticks and bring them back to you like the smartest little man there is. He’s successful only half of the time, but whatever. Dogs have their reasons.

You scratch CD under his little chin, and he farts bad enough that you have to stop and sit upright on the bench. 

Yep! Fresh air. Smells like car exhaust.

“So, uh, sup.” Oh God, your personal space. This guy is _right_ up against it. 

Okay, well, he’s reasonably on the other side of the bench and is in no way making contact of any kind, which you respect. In your defense, it’s been a while since you’ve talked to anyone that wasn’t a lesbian with too little time on their hands. 

Hm. That’s _really_ fucking pathetic, now that you’re thinking about it.

“Wow, not the chatty type are you? Well, that’s fine, I mean, you’re really just a stranger who had the decency to watch over my bro without making sure he faceplanted on the pavement or anything. I appreciate that, you know?” 

Oh, right; he’s talking. You turn your head enough to watch him from the corner of your eye, hands in his lap and sneaking quick glances at you.

“Not that my first impression of you was that you were untrustworthy or a creep or some shit, just like- I don’t know, you ever worry sometimes?”

Every hellbent day of your life. Every fucking hour, worry pulses through your veins like a viscous honey from only the most malicious of wasps. Bees. Whatever.

“I swear this whole ‘running off and getting lost’ thing isn’t regular for us. It was actually the first time this ever happened. Which is why I’m personally, pretty fucking relieved it’s only sweat on my face as a stress liquid and not, like, piss. Or smegma.”

Jesus! Okay, he did _not_ just say that. Not without the intention to personally antagonize you. You turn your entire body to face this verbal culprit to emotional distress, ready to stare him right in the fucking eyes because _nobody_ has a train of thought that naturally _vile-_

He’s wearing shades. Of _course._

He’s also kind of cute, albeit obnoxiously tall and skinny. What was that term your students were spreading around? Twink? Sure.

Beanpole notices you staring at him with what’s probably an expression akin to exasperation and the threat of death, and nearly jumps off where he sits. Behind him, Dirk exaggeratedly mimics his brother’s movement before bringing an L up to his forehead and walking off. Rude much? 

(Hypocrite. You distinctly remember calling your second grade substitute teacher a bitch because he wouldn’t let you eat in class. You _guess_ his audacity is respectable.)

“Um,” you clear your throat, careful not to scare this poor dude any more than he already is. “Don’t worry about it. Dirk didn’t actively try to get into any trouble, save for trying to see how far he can get with insulting random things.” You straighten your back (he’s _unfairly_ tall), glancing back to make sure CD isn’t too far away from you.

“It’s not like that was an issue either, by the way. I’m surrounded by teenagers in various states of despair during my work hours, so. You know.” There’s no possible fucking way Tallass _could_ have known, but he nods sympathetically anyway. 

Somehow, that encourages you to keep talking like it’s your turn to go on stage and spout out half your entire life story to some dude whose name you don’t even know yet.

“Like, is it annoying when you’re trying to teach them how to properly cite their sources? Sure, but you can’t expect every single kid out there to be readily willing to sit down and listen to me talk my ass off about something I’m not even entirely sure about myself.” You lean back onto the bench, pleasantly surprised when Tallass does the same. You continue. 

“The real issue comes when they actively try to push your buttons, because _apparently_ adolescence takes away any kind of filter that makes you think about what you’re saying before it comes out of your unholy windpipe.” You grimace at the memories that resurface. Teenagers can be brutal, and what does everyone else do? Sync up at the notion of a well-roasted burn and all go _ooooohhh_ like they’ve secretly been in choir their entire fucking lives.

Maybe this whole thing isn’t just exclusive to teens. Like, you’re _well_ past your early twenties, and the last fucking word you would use to describe yourself would be ‘polite’. Not to mention what little first impression you’ve had upon meeting Dirk- wait _what the fuck whatishedoing-_

“HEY! LEAVE MY FUCKING DOG ALONE, you little _prick!_ ” Dirk looks up from where he’s poking your poor fragile baby boy with a stick, and reluctantly throws the stick away. 

Yeah, he better. Nobody’s poking CD as long as you’re around.

The realization that you just said that in front of his brother hits you like the need to shit in the middle of a meeting.

You look over and find Mr. Lamppost covering his mouth like a Victorian maiden, eyebrows raised well above his shades. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or about to leave you sitting there. Fuck. _Fuck._

You raise your hands in a desperate need to remedy the situation before he somehow gets you fired, or some other malicious (and probably well-deserved) kind of ilk.

“Oh God, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Tall Shitface snorts in disbelief, and your panic levels spike through the roof. “ _Okay,_ well I did mean that, but that’s my _dog_ , dude, I’ve had CD for two years and I’m just really protective of him and your brother’s kind of a dick but he’s a little kid and I didn’t mean to swear in front of him, I promise.” You run your hands in circles, digging yourself deeper into this hole of embarrassment.

“Fuck, like swearing is kind of my main setting here; trying not to implode during work is already enough of a challenge, but that’s no way an excuse for talking to you or your family especially since I don’t even know your _name_ and I’ve been referring to you with fucked up sobriquets akin to ‘tall fuck’ please just put me out of my misery now-” Okay, now you’re just _purposefully_ trying to get this guy to hate you. Come on.

You bury your face in your hands and sigh. Behold, fuckup extraordinaire. 

This is what you get for not having a social life like a normal person.

There’s a gentle press against your shoulder, and you peek out from between your fingers to see Spaghettilimbs with a hand gently patting you in reassurance, shoulders shaking from silent laughter.

He opens his mouth to speak, snorts, and then repeats this process three more times with various amounts of amusement. All the while, you contemplate the fastest way to drop dead.

Finally, he gathers enough of his wits to wipe a fake(?) tear from his eye, smiling. Okay, maybe you’re not about to get sent straight to hell. Not that you ever expected to end up anywhere else, anyway.

He extends a hand in a fistbump, which you bump back with resignation. “First off, hi. I’m Dave. Nice to meet you, it’s a pleasure to meet a dude who has the decency to call me a nickname on the first day. Really makes me feel special, you know?”

  
“Sure, if you consider nicknames a form of affection and not the ghastly showmanship of malice.” You grimace. You still can’t get _Mr. Vantass won’t quit_ out of your head. “Don’t take this as an invitation to change your mind, though. I assure you, everyone’s personal bar of courtesy makes an effort to dig deep enough to hit an oil well whenever I’m around. The generous outlook is much appreciated.”

“Damn.”

“Uh. Dirk is in earshot, just so you know.” says the hypocrite! You’re a natural clown. 

Dave shrugs with a nonchalant mumble. “Man, you have no fucking idea. I’m half expecting my sibs to start swearing by seven by how uncensored I am. Not like I do it on purpose,” he adds swiftly. Well, that sweeps away your impression that he didn’t care. Maybe he really just has no filter whatsoever. “But, you know. Whenever I try, I just end up saying shit about three times the usual.”

“Besides,” he adds, “they’re gonna learn it anyway.”

You give him a _look_. 

“Well shit, nevermind.” Dave says, raising his hands in defense. “Looks _can_ kill. Seriously though, what’s the appropriate age for swearing around kids? Nine? The big double-digit pre-teens? There isn’t exactly a defined rule as established by the consensus of Responsible Guardians Against Foul Mouths or some shit, and it’s not like I can slap some tape over some silly fuck running his mouth wherever anyways. Might as well let them digest what they do with their tiny baby brains and then let them know they can’t call the principal a dickhead.”

He raises a finger and taps it to his temple. “Adaptation, not mitigation.”

Well, fuck. He has a point. An awful one, sure, but it’s not like you can refute it. At least you now know why Dirk wasn’t affected by your language.

“Hey. What’s your name, anyway?” Dave asks. “I’ve just been calling you Dog Dude this whole time.” 

Right. “It’s Karkat.”

_Please_ don’t make a joke about your name. The punchline is right there, too: dog dude, car cat. It’s not like you haven’t heard 5 similar iterations to that before, either. You swear to god, you’re so close to kicking random people over this.

“Goddamn. How many Karkats are there?” Dave asks.

Uh. What?

“I’m pretty sure there’s just me, dumbass. Unless you know another Karkat, which in that case I’d like to retract my introductions and pretend to not have met you or the potential other guy getting ready to commit identity theft.”

“Nah, you’re the only one. Weird question, but do you know a Rose Lalonde? I swear I heard my sister mention your name once, but I have no idea.” 

Holy shit. This is Rose’s brother.

Well, you can’t say you were surprised. Everything she’s dropped about him in the time you’ve known her seems to check out: weird, funny “in surprising increments,” flaccid, “the coolest dude you’ll ever meet,” uh.

Hm. 

Was she just quoting Dave himself for that last bit, or was she trying to wingman for her brother? A hidden insult could’ve been on the table too, for all you know. 

Not the point. You just had no idea he’s be this...dorky. 

It’s strange to imagine him next to Rose. You saw her make a grown adult cry, once. Dave looks like he’d earnestly offer a few crumpled pocket tissues to wipe those tears away, when he’s not making other people pull their hair out in frustration.

Dave starts to shuffle around on the bench. How long have you left him hanging? You really need to stop this inner thought process bullshit.

“Yes, I know Rose. I’m her coworker. She practically holds the last shred of respect I have left for my career.”

“Oh shit! Nice. I was starting to worry there, talking to strangers and all.” he grins.

You huff, “Yeah, like you asking me for my name and associations -after I looked after your little brat of a brother, mind you- is the equivalent to running up to someone and asking them if they’ve ever gotten an ass tattoo.”

Dave raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Well, have you?”

“No, but thanks for asking, weirdo! And don’t answer me back, I’m not keen to know.”

“Your loss.” 

_Clap clap!_

Dirk walks into view, interrupting what’s most likely the biggest amount of social interaction you’ve had outside of work in the past month. He walks over to tug at Dave’s sleeve, giving a little stomp.

“Are you done? I want to go home.” he signs.

“Oh, uh, sure little dude.” Dave takes a hold of Dirk’s hand, turning back to look at you.

“Hope us dipping out isn’t too abrupt.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ll be heading back too.” 

“Cool.”

“...Cool.” 

“Well, I’ll see you around Karkat. Shorty!” Dirk drags him away before you can find the words to retort back.

Asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im SO SORRY this took so long its literally been half a year i thought id have some more time to write this (extended) chapter but uni is kicking my ass and id rather post about 1/3 of what i have drafted by the end of the year instead of posting like 12k on march you know?? anyway hopefully ill be able to post a lot more frequently in smaller increments if i can :pensive:
> 
> in other news im working on a sdk oneshot!! by oneshot i mean its already 3000 words and im just beginning fasjdkfjsald so once that oneshot is done i might be more into the writing flow to start posting things at a more frequent yet reasonable pace and all! heres to hoping (and the monkeys paw curls a finger)  
> also i love comments they give me the motivation to keep writing lmaoo thank you for all of your kind ones last chapter <3 also hmu my tumblr/twitter is @ notedchampagne

**Author's Note:**

> heya! welcome to this absolute MONSTER of a fic and i have multiple things to say so:  
> 1) i have 25 chapters planned and im still thinking of adding in some more just to make the slow burn the slightest bit more agonizing so if you have any ideas or interactions between characters that youd like to see let me know!! im probably not adding in any minor characters but if you wanna see any situations between kanaya rose dave karkat dirk or roxy put it in a comment ill see what i can do (no promises)
> 
> 2) rosemaries i know and share your pain about having a rosemary fic just be davekat with rosemary as the composed couple that helps them get together and i promise you this is not that fic. i will do you justice
> 
> 3) writing is not my go to when it comes to a hobby and unlike art i will lose my motivation when it doesnt get feedback so this might (?) sound needy but please leave a comment! even just your thoughts on a single scene helps me get up and actually write some words instead of thinking about it lmao. just think about it
> 
> 4) [ heres the main character lineup! in case youre curious](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/575331528771633164/690147200520421412/love_in_its_disrepute_character_lineup.png)  
> 5) feel free to hmu on tumblr and twitter @notedchampagne lmao


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